I don't know why belief and faith are so hard for me. I'm not talking about a specific faith or belief. Just any faith, any belief, any anything.
I've been experiencing an extended existential crisis for about 20 months. (What a coincidence...) It's not for fun and it's not a release and it's not cathartic. It's not comforting or exciting or soothing. I just don't know if I really know anything. And while my brain can say, "Yes, I'm fully aware that there is no bottom to the well of faith, that there is nothing concrete to find" the rest of me is fully compelled to keep digging, keep looking, keep finding out more. It's much more of a compulsion than a hobby in religious history and beliefs.
It started after Eli died. I told a friend, "I don't want to be angry or sad. I've been both of those things for so long and I'm sick of it." My friend gently replied, "Don't worry, you will be." It didn't really matter how sick I was of being sad and angry. I had no idea what was coming.
Briefly, I was able to hold my faith close. I prayed. I showed up to worship. I tried to engage. And on a Sunday morning three weeks after Eli died, when everyone around me was singing about God moving mountains, I sat down. I didn't decide to sit down, my body sat down for me. My heart asked plainly, "But why didn't you move my mountain?"
That was August 2015. It's March 2017. My question remains. I thought I would be further along by now. I for sure thought I would be done treading water in an existential ocean by now. I'm not. Sometimes I wonder if I've still only just begun. I'm not in a panic over this lack of faith, though. I'm as comfortable as one can be with a bucket of doubt. I'm taking all the time I need to process, and it looks like it will be a while, still. I'm okay with it.
Except I'm so freaking frustrated. All of the exploring and listening and considering has gotten me exactly nowhere but farther down the well and I'm tired. I want to accept something, anything, so I don't have to continue all this striving.
Looking at the contributing factors to my current state I can say I got here through the combination of an extended traumatic life event and subsequent life-altering loss which my faith was not created to withstand. What I mean is the faith I learned got it wrong. My faith was great as long as I still had hope, as long as I was the one who could do the helping and fixing for others. It was meaningful. I was all in. I'm not saying I was taught wrong. I'm saying the very faith I shared with my nearest and dearest was wrong.
Look, before you get worked up, please know this is not an attack or a dis on any faith. This is my faith falling apart. Despite the terrible things done in the name of religion throughout human history, faith itself is good for humans. It is good for people to have faith, and with it a community, a sense of meaning, hope. Those are wonderful things and I want them for others and for my own family, I just can't get there myself right now.
Yesterday and everyday before that for several months, I would have told you that I don't believe in an afterlife of any kind. So yes, that means I have been of the opinion that I will never see my son again. Yes that is as shitty as it sounds, maybe more. Today I'm not so sure, though.
I've been pretty doubtful that God even exists. He's certainly not a "good, good Father" if he does. Who can know? I've been wondering if maybe God is more energy than anything.
I wish I could believe something. When Eli died and I asked to see his name in the clouds, and then most of my family saw the exact thing I had asked for (his name in the clouds ON CHRISTMAS) and all I got was a photo of it, I could only ask Why? Months later I talked to a fellow bereaved parent about it and he asked me if I would have been able to accept it if I saw it myself. I know you think the answer is Of Course, but it's not. The answer is probably not. And then this January my mom saw it again and called me, and I *happened* to be driving almost exactly parallel to her a few miles away at the exact same time and so I saw it too. You would think since this bizarre and specific thing I asked for has quite obviously happened I could accept at the very least that it is a sign of sorts. But you would again be wrong. Because all I can think is that Eli is a really short and linear name, it's not like I named the kid Mergatroid, which would be much more impressive in the clouds quite frankly.
I don't want to debate theology. I just want to be able to accept some kind of faith.
I thought I was going to hang my hat on science, but it turns out that takes too much faith, too.
German theoretical physicist, Werner Heisenberg, famously said, "The first gulp from the glass of natural sciences will turn you into an atheist, but at the bottom of the glass God is waiting for you."
First of all, that is beautiful. If God is real, then God is in everything that makes our world what it is. We don't have to be afraid of learning something that will disprove God.
I guess I'm just not to the bottom of the glass, yet. Or the well of faith and belief, which has no bottom anyway.
Dr. Joanne Cacciatore founded the MISS Foundation and the Center for Loss and Trauma in the years following her daughter's death. She has published peer reviewed research around the topic of child death and bereavement. Of the bereaved authors, bloggers, foundation-starters, artists, and parents I know, I don't identify closest with Dr. Cacciatore. But she does have thoughtful and well-developed ideas that make me think.
I read her most recent article, A Subatomic Connection to Our Dead, yesterday. It's short. Go read it. I'll wait. You have know it to understand the rest of what I have to say.
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I read about the invisible connection between entangled particles last night. I already knew about fetal microchimerism cells, the cells that babies leave behind in their mothers when they are born. I know I have some of Eli's cells inside of me. Which is the most brutiful thing.
But when I read, "We are one in the same, connected subatomically, in the visible and invisible realm" my body shook. Because I knew it was true. Not only did I know it was true, science was saying it was true, and I could feel it was true.
Today I don't think it's true.
I know, it's science in the process of being peer-reviewed, which is basically the rubber stamp of factual reality.
I just want to believe it. I just want to believe that Eli and I are still connected, somehow. Somehow besides memories and stories and pictures and ideas.
I don't know why I can't accept that it's possible there is a realm of consciousness after we die (oh you know, maybe like an afterlife), or that God or Eli could be communicating with me in some fashion, or that science shows quantum entanglement is real (um, which is did).
Maybe hope is still too painful.
If anyone happened by and is going through a deconstruction of their faith, hi there. Here are some of the books, blogs, and podcasts that have helped me examine faith in a healthy way and not just throw it all away.
The Liturgists podcast- I think starting at the beginning is a good idea because in the beginning it was more straightforward and topic based and frankly a bit easier to follow. Not that I don't love it now. It has just built on itself a lot.
Science Mike (podcast, blogs, and definitely read his book, Finding God in the Waves)
Rachel Held Evans' books A Year of Biblical Womanhood and Faith Unraveled
Pretty much all the things Richard Rohr has to say, especially his guest appearances on Episode 35 of The Liturgists podcast and Episode 86 of The Robcast with Rob Bell.
Why Everything Does Not Happen For a Reason, John Pavlovitz (blog)
Accidental Saints by Nadia Bolz-Weber
Any Poetry by Nayyirah Waheed
A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis
What We Talk About When We Talk About God by Rob Bell
The entire Harry Potter series. I was a late comer to the Wizarding World, but it's so beautiful and comforting. JK Rowling wrote it as an allegory for the forces of good and evil in the world also the Gospel, so, basically just read it and cry and feel your feelings.
A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller
Saturday, March 25, 2017
Friday, March 17, 2017
Aaron Burr
I don't know if you've ever heard of this musical called Hamilton about some of the U.S. founding fathers, but I quite enjoy the soundtrack. And because music is so very loaded for me, the Hamilton soundtrack is one that I can mostly enjoy without too many intense feelings. I mean, there is the whole part where Hamilton's son dies and they sing about it and I wish a train would hit me (sarcasm!), but mostly I stick to the first 3/4 of the musical. ;-) Music that I can enjoy is so sparse still that I listen to Hamilton at least five days a week. I still can't quite rap along with Lafayette, but I'm working on it.
Almost none of the characters are legit "good guys". Alexander Hamilton sends out all kinds of red flags for narcissism. And the antagonist Aaron Burr who shoots Hamilton in a duel is altogether unlikable.
Except I totally get Aaron Burr. Lin-Manuel Miranda said that if Hamilton's reaction to loss and tragedy is to go go go full speed ahead, Burr's reaction is to wait. Burr sings this song called "Wait For It" where he reflects on the loss of his parents, the pain of not really being wanted by any of his relatives throughout his childhood, his unlawful love affair with a woman married to a British officer, and he says if there was a reason for these things to happen to him, he's willing to wait to figure it out. Where Hamilton ignores the pieces of the puzzle and accelerates forward, Burr sits back and ponders the pieces of the puzzle, turns them over, reexamines them, considers them.
I get it. I feel frozen in place most of the time. What do I do now? I have no idea. I do things. I try things. But I have no idea what I'm doing. My sense of purpose has been highly modified and what do I do with that? I have yet to figure it out.
I had a meeting with the president of the local children's hospital last week. He met with me for two hours. I shared Eli's story with him. We talked about the future of healthcare for kids like Eli. It was challenging, but felt good to use the science and medical knowledge that is still floating around in my brain. He gave me so much to think about. It was a remarkable meeting.
But what do I do? I come home and I think. And I ponder. And I consider. And I think some more. I Wait For It.
I'm doing things. I'm working. I'm running. I'm raising more money for houses for Haiti. But I'm still mostly bobbing in an ocean of uncertainty with no land in sight.
Aaron Burr wasn't a great dude. He was political to a fault- I don't mean he was passionate, I mean he was a supreme manipulator. But I get LMM's version of Burr. He says, "I'm not falling behind or running late/I'm not standing still I am lying in wait"
Me too.
Almost none of the characters are legit "good guys". Alexander Hamilton sends out all kinds of red flags for narcissism. And the antagonist Aaron Burr who shoots Hamilton in a duel is altogether unlikable.
Except I totally get Aaron Burr. Lin-Manuel Miranda said that if Hamilton's reaction to loss and tragedy is to go go go full speed ahead, Burr's reaction is to wait. Burr sings this song called "Wait For It" where he reflects on the loss of his parents, the pain of not really being wanted by any of his relatives throughout his childhood, his unlawful love affair with a woman married to a British officer, and he says if there was a reason for these things to happen to him, he's willing to wait to figure it out. Where Hamilton ignores the pieces of the puzzle and accelerates forward, Burr sits back and ponders the pieces of the puzzle, turns them over, reexamines them, considers them.
I get it. I feel frozen in place most of the time. What do I do now? I have no idea. I do things. I try things. But I have no idea what I'm doing. My sense of purpose has been highly modified and what do I do with that? I have yet to figure it out.
I had a meeting with the president of the local children's hospital last week. He met with me for two hours. I shared Eli's story with him. We talked about the future of healthcare for kids like Eli. It was challenging, but felt good to use the science and medical knowledge that is still floating around in my brain. He gave me so much to think about. It was a remarkable meeting.
But what do I do? I come home and I think. And I ponder. And I consider. And I think some more. I Wait For It.
I'm doing things. I'm working. I'm running. I'm raising more money for houses for Haiti. But I'm still mostly bobbing in an ocean of uncertainty with no land in sight.
Aaron Burr wasn't a great dude. He was political to a fault- I don't mean he was passionate, I mean he was a supreme manipulator. But I get LMM's version of Burr. He says, "I'm not falling behind or running late/I'm not standing still I am lying in wait"
Me too.
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
What to do for a family when a child dies
How to help someone who has lost a child
Pregnancy, infant, and child loss happens everyday. It happens to regular, unsuspecting people. And it's not going to stop.
I do believe that our job on this earth is to meet people in their suffering. Not make it better, not fix it. Just sit in the trenches, hold someone's hand, and witness their pain. Don't look away because it's uncomfortable.
The question is how do you provide support when you can't (and shouldn't try) to fix it?
I am in the unfortunate position to know and have written a list of dos/donts/ideas to a few people over the last several months. So here it is, more or less.
I'm posting this as a tribute to a little boy named Graham who died today.
This is from my perspective as a bereaved parent. A lot of it will apply to other very close losses. Keep in mind, what is comforting for one may be grating for another.
1. There are no magic words. You don't know what to say because there isn't anything to say that will communicate what you are feeling towards this person. That doesn't mean you shouldn't say anything. Recognize the loss. Say the deceased person's name. If you knew the person, say something you liked about them.
Example: "I was so sorry to hear about Eli. He is such a special little boy. I love when you would share pictures of him smiling. It always made me smile."
2. You can never make the bereaved person sadder or remind them of their loss by mentioning their child. They already know. It does not leave their heart or their brain for one second. They feel their loss all of the time. You bringing it up will let them know you haven't forgotten.
3. Set a reminder on your calendar every month on the anniversary of their person's death. Every month that date rolls around, send them a text or a message to say you're thinking about them, or praying for them, or you love them.
4. Food. This one is tricky. The immediate inclination when a person dies to cook meals for their family. That CAN be helpful. Or it can be overwhelming. For me, the idea of people stopping by my house was too much. Even over six months later I didn't feel up to having people in my home. It still felt intrusive. My home was my safe place. I know some people who in the face of losing their child wanted to do their own cooking because it felt like something they could control. So. Someone who is close to the bereaved person needs to find out what they are comfortable with. I had a small group of "safe" people who came over regularly to help me just sort through the boxes and boxes of stuff we had accumulated over seven months in the hospital. Those people brought me food, and they even became point people at times for others to drop off meals to be delivered to me.
Another option for food delivery with without intrusion is to put a cooler on someone's front porch and have food dropped off in the cooler at a certain time (ex. between 5-6pm). That way whether it's hot or cold and needing to be heated, it will stay the right temp in the cooler and the bereaved person can check the cooler after the appointed drop off time.
And if you've never tried it, takethemameal.com is great for organizing a meal schedule.
5. Offer specific help. They can't call you if they need anything because they have no idea what they need. And even if they did, they don't have the emotional energy to call.
Bring them toilet paper and paper towels. If they aren't expecting you, leave it on the doorstep.
Ask when garbage day is, then tell them you'd like to stop by each week to take the garbage out to the street. If they say okay, then actually do it.
Take care of their yard work.
Ask if you can do dishes/clean toilets/wash and fold laundry.
DONT DO THINGS THAT CANT BE UNDONE WITHOUT THEIR APPROVAL. Like laundry. You'd hate to be the one who washed the deceased person's smell off their clothes.
A gaggle of friends came and painted our house because we had moved in the middle of Eli's illness and I wanted our house to feel like a home. Such a gesture of big love.
6. Is there a sibling? Siblings get forgotten in child loss. Everyone is focused on the parent(s). If the sibling was already close to you before the loss, offer to take them to do something. Go bowling, go to an arcade, go out for donuts, anything. It's helpful for the whole family for the surviving sibling to receive some extra and focused attention on them. It takes a little pressure off the parent(s) and it helps the child(ren) have some moments to just be kids.
If you didn't have a relationship with the child before the loss, it is not entirely appropriate for you to start one in the midst of this tragedy. But you can buy a toy/game/activity for the living child and drop it off. Remembering and showing love to the living child is one of the best ways to care for the parents.
7.
Go to the funeral. I know it sucks. I wrote and gave my 4-year-old son's eulogy. Don't talk the person's ear off. Go. Be brief in your visiting. Go home. It can be helpful to share a memory about the deceased person because words are generally inefficient and awkward. Awkwardness is okay. Grieving people get used to being awkward.
8.
Learn the Ring Theory of care and support. It's one diagram and you'll never forget it once you read it. It's also applicable to every serious illness, tragedy, and death you interact with for the rest of your life.
http://articles.latimes.com/2013/apr/07/opinion/la-oe-0407-silk-ring-theory-20130407
9.
Gifts. Gifts can be touchstones when there is nothing else to say. A friend got me a personalized necklace with Eli's name and birthstone and a sweet saying that I wore for months. Someone else had a star named for Eli. Another friend sent a window hanging with Forget-me-not flowers pressed inside. Someone else had Eli's name embroidered on a kid sized Georgia bulldogs jersey (Eli's fave). Another person made a quilt based on some art I had posted of Eli's online. A friend crocheted a blanket. A different friend sent me a necklace she saw that reminded her of my love for Eli. That same friend sent me a children's book she had been reading to her kids that made her think of Eli every time. I could go on and on. Eli had a huge effect on the world in his short life and people responded so lovingly to my family.
If it takes a village to raise a child, it also takes a village to grieve a child.
My personal recommendations are:
-A personalized piece of jewelry with the child's name. Etsy has incredible choices, a lot in the $30-$40 range. (www.etsy.com)
-It important to a grieving mom that all of her children are recognized. Especially in the situation of a stillbirth, consider personalized jewelry with all of her children included. Etsy again has the best choices. (www.etsy.com)
-name a star after the child. It's a crazy time after your child dies. I liked looking at the constellation where my son's star is from my driveway. The star wasn't him, but he wasn't here and the star was a thing I could see.
-books are hard because when you're deep in grief concentration is nil. She may get to that book and she may not. It took me a couple months to be able to read a paragraph and know what I had read. Books aren't bad, they're just tricky.
Sometimes books are meant with love but the message in the pages can cause more pain, not peace. For example, I walked into lifeway christian store several months after Eli's death. I spent about an hour perusing books and do you know there was one single book in that whole store that didn't feel uncomfortable like an itchy sweater? That book is A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis. Lewis writes the truth- that it hurts, that the shear weight of the loss is impenetrable by hope at times. Lewis is raw and lays it out there. It was like a balm because it was real. It wasn't another author trying to wash over my pain with platitudes. Platitudes are for people who are afraid of suffering, not people who are suffering. When I read words such as, "She could not mourn....She wished only to cease, to be no more, as if sunk in some profound sleep devoid of wakening" (-Tanith Lee) I don't feel worse or suicidal. I feel understood. I feel less alone.
-memorial gifts. Often a family will designate where they would like gifts given in lieu of flowers. Do this. Even if it's $5. The organization will send a letter to the family letting them know the gifts that were given and by who (unless it is given anonymously). This is a means of silent support. The family will know you care and be touched that others were helped because of their child.
-other memorial gifts. Plant a tree in the child's honor- either at the family's house and with their permission (and be prepared to go take care of it yourself until it's self sustaining because the family has zero ability to handle that. If you can't or won't take care of the tree don't plant it) or with an organization where a tree can be planted in a person's honor. Google it.
If there is a certain activity the child liked you can give in their memory through World Vision or other relief organizations. My parents buy soccer balls and a family of ducks for children and families in abject poverty through World Vision in Eli's memory every year because he loved playing soccer and he loved feeding the ducks. Generally when you give in someone's honor or memory you are emailed a card to print out and give to the person or family.
10.
An open ended weekend getaway. If you have connections or means it can be nice to gift the bereaved parents a weekend stay at a hotel or bed and breakfast. If you are planning on doing this I would mention it to the family and let them know you will follow up with them in a few weeks. And then maybe a month or so after the funeral mention it again and ask them if they're open to it and if so to give you a couple weekends that would work for 1-2 months out. Losing a child takes an enormous toll on a marriage. We are over 18 months out and still spinning our wheels and trying to love each other well and failing hard (much harder than we ever used to with much more regularity). Men and women, mothers and fathers just grieve differently. It can feel like banging your head against the wall. Some time away won't solve everything, but it will be a nice reprieve.
11.
Just say the child's name. Any chance you get, use the child's name in a sentence to the parents. I remember crying to a friend and asking her to promise me she'll always talk about Eli and say his name to me. I didn't want people to stop saying his name. But they do, and that's life. As time goes on people say less and less about the child, much less their name. It is a gift to hear someone use Eli's name.
This is a work in progress. Some of these I wrote a year ago and some I wrote tonight. I suspect there may be more that I add over time.
Pregnancy, infant, and child loss happens everyday. It happens to regular, unsuspecting people. And it's not going to stop.
I do believe that our job on this earth is to meet people in their suffering. Not make it better, not fix it. Just sit in the trenches, hold someone's hand, and witness their pain. Don't look away because it's uncomfortable.
The question is how do you provide support when you can't (and shouldn't try) to fix it?
I am in the unfortunate position to know and have written a list of dos/donts/ideas to a few people over the last several months. So here it is, more or less.
I'm posting this as a tribute to a little boy named Graham who died today.
This is from my perspective as a bereaved parent. A lot of it will apply to other very close losses. Keep in mind, what is comforting for one may be grating for another.
1. There are no magic words. You don't know what to say because there isn't anything to say that will communicate what you are feeling towards this person. That doesn't mean you shouldn't say anything. Recognize the loss. Say the deceased person's name. If you knew the person, say something you liked about them.
Example: "I was so sorry to hear about Eli. He is such a special little boy. I love when you would share pictures of him smiling. It always made me smile."
2. You can never make the bereaved person sadder or remind them of their loss by mentioning their child. They already know. It does not leave their heart or their brain for one second. They feel their loss all of the time. You bringing it up will let them know you haven't forgotten.
3. Set a reminder on your calendar every month on the anniversary of their person's death. Every month that date rolls around, send them a text or a message to say you're thinking about them, or praying for them, or you love them.
4. Food. This one is tricky. The immediate inclination when a person dies to cook meals for their family. That CAN be helpful. Or it can be overwhelming. For me, the idea of people stopping by my house was too much. Even over six months later I didn't feel up to having people in my home. It still felt intrusive. My home was my safe place. I know some people who in the face of losing their child wanted to do their own cooking because it felt like something they could control. So. Someone who is close to the bereaved person needs to find out what they are comfortable with. I had a small group of "safe" people who came over regularly to help me just sort through the boxes and boxes of stuff we had accumulated over seven months in the hospital. Those people brought me food, and they even became point people at times for others to drop off meals to be delivered to me.
Another option for food delivery with without intrusion is to put a cooler on someone's front porch and have food dropped off in the cooler at a certain time (ex. between 5-6pm). That way whether it's hot or cold and needing to be heated, it will stay the right temp in the cooler and the bereaved person can check the cooler after the appointed drop off time.
And if you've never tried it, takethemameal.com is great for organizing a meal schedule.
5. Offer specific help. They can't call you if they need anything because they have no idea what they need. And even if they did, they don't have the emotional energy to call.
Bring them toilet paper and paper towels. If they aren't expecting you, leave it on the doorstep.
Ask when garbage day is, then tell them you'd like to stop by each week to take the garbage out to the street. If they say okay, then actually do it.
Take care of their yard work.
Ask if you can do dishes/clean toilets/wash and fold laundry.
DONT DO THINGS THAT CANT BE UNDONE WITHOUT THEIR APPROVAL. Like laundry. You'd hate to be the one who washed the deceased person's smell off their clothes.
A gaggle of friends came and painted our house because we had moved in the middle of Eli's illness and I wanted our house to feel like a home. Such a gesture of big love.
6. Is there a sibling? Siblings get forgotten in child loss. Everyone is focused on the parent(s). If the sibling was already close to you before the loss, offer to take them to do something. Go bowling, go to an arcade, go out for donuts, anything. It's helpful for the whole family for the surviving sibling to receive some extra and focused attention on them. It takes a little pressure off the parent(s) and it helps the child(ren) have some moments to just be kids.
If you didn't have a relationship with the child before the loss, it is not entirely appropriate for you to start one in the midst of this tragedy. But you can buy a toy/game/activity for the living child and drop it off. Remembering and showing love to the living child is one of the best ways to care for the parents.
7.
Go to the funeral. I know it sucks. I wrote and gave my 4-year-old son's eulogy. Don't talk the person's ear off. Go. Be brief in your visiting. Go home. It can be helpful to share a memory about the deceased person because words are generally inefficient and awkward. Awkwardness is okay. Grieving people get used to being awkward.
8.
Learn the Ring Theory of care and support. It's one diagram and you'll never forget it once you read it. It's also applicable to every serious illness, tragedy, and death you interact with for the rest of your life.
http://articles.latimes.com/2013/apr/07/opinion/la-oe-0407-silk-ring-theory-20130407
9.
Gifts. Gifts can be touchstones when there is nothing else to say. A friend got me a personalized necklace with Eli's name and birthstone and a sweet saying that I wore for months. Someone else had a star named for Eli. Another friend sent a window hanging with Forget-me-not flowers pressed inside. Someone else had Eli's name embroidered on a kid sized Georgia bulldogs jersey (Eli's fave). Another person made a quilt based on some art I had posted of Eli's online. A friend crocheted a blanket. A different friend sent me a necklace she saw that reminded her of my love for Eli. That same friend sent me a children's book she had been reading to her kids that made her think of Eli every time. I could go on and on. Eli had a huge effect on the world in his short life and people responded so lovingly to my family.
If it takes a village to raise a child, it also takes a village to grieve a child.
My personal recommendations are:
-A personalized piece of jewelry with the child's name. Etsy has incredible choices, a lot in the $30-$40 range. (www.etsy.com)
-It important to a grieving mom that all of her children are recognized. Especially in the situation of a stillbirth, consider personalized jewelry with all of her children included. Etsy again has the best choices. (www.etsy.com)
-name a star after the child. It's a crazy time after your child dies. I liked looking at the constellation where my son's star is from my driveway. The star wasn't him, but he wasn't here and the star was a thing I could see.
-books are hard because when you're deep in grief concentration is nil. She may get to that book and she may not. It took me a couple months to be able to read a paragraph and know what I had read. Books aren't bad, they're just tricky.
Sometimes books are meant with love but the message in the pages can cause more pain, not peace. For example, I walked into lifeway christian store several months after Eli's death. I spent about an hour perusing books and do you know there was one single book in that whole store that didn't feel uncomfortable like an itchy sweater? That book is A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis. Lewis writes the truth- that it hurts, that the shear weight of the loss is impenetrable by hope at times. Lewis is raw and lays it out there. It was like a balm because it was real. It wasn't another author trying to wash over my pain with platitudes. Platitudes are for people who are afraid of suffering, not people who are suffering. When I read words such as, "She could not mourn....She wished only to cease, to be no more, as if sunk in some profound sleep devoid of wakening" (-Tanith Lee) I don't feel worse or suicidal. I feel understood. I feel less alone.
-memorial gifts. Often a family will designate where they would like gifts given in lieu of flowers. Do this. Even if it's $5. The organization will send a letter to the family letting them know the gifts that were given and by who (unless it is given anonymously). This is a means of silent support. The family will know you care and be touched that others were helped because of their child.
-other memorial gifts. Plant a tree in the child's honor- either at the family's house and with their permission (and be prepared to go take care of it yourself until it's self sustaining because the family has zero ability to handle that. If you can't or won't take care of the tree don't plant it) or with an organization where a tree can be planted in a person's honor. Google it.
If there is a certain activity the child liked you can give in their memory through World Vision or other relief organizations. My parents buy soccer balls and a family of ducks for children and families in abject poverty through World Vision in Eli's memory every year because he loved playing soccer and he loved feeding the ducks. Generally when you give in someone's honor or memory you are emailed a card to print out and give to the person or family.
10.
An open ended weekend getaway. If you have connections or means it can be nice to gift the bereaved parents a weekend stay at a hotel or bed and breakfast. If you are planning on doing this I would mention it to the family and let them know you will follow up with them in a few weeks. And then maybe a month or so after the funeral mention it again and ask them if they're open to it and if so to give you a couple weekends that would work for 1-2 months out. Losing a child takes an enormous toll on a marriage. We are over 18 months out and still spinning our wheels and trying to love each other well and failing hard (much harder than we ever used to with much more regularity). Men and women, mothers and fathers just grieve differently. It can feel like banging your head against the wall. Some time away won't solve everything, but it will be a nice reprieve.
11.
Just say the child's name. Any chance you get, use the child's name in a sentence to the parents. I remember crying to a friend and asking her to promise me she'll always talk about Eli and say his name to me. I didn't want people to stop saying his name. But they do, and that's life. As time goes on people say less and less about the child, much less their name. It is a gift to hear someone use Eli's name.
This is a work in progress. Some of these I wrote a year ago and some I wrote tonight. I suspect there may be more that I add over time.
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