Concerning Mourners

My Observations, July 6, 2003

Well, today was the day. As some of you know, my mother passed away on May 7, 2003 as a result of pancreatic cancer. Yesterday was the thirtieth day of mourning her death; today, as is custom in my family, I shaved off the facial hair I let grow for the duration, took a walk around my neighborhood, and spent some time in contemplation. The official period of grieving is over, and I now have to just get on with the more mundane things in life. Not that I won't continue to remember my mother--in fact, that's one of the reasons I'm writing this.

I'll always remember her and the way she was able to constantly express surprise and wonder at the world around her, how she expressed her joy at the good things and managed to shoulder the burdens that came with the bad. She managed to be a breadwinner when Dad was disabled, a peacemaker when the inevitable arguments broke out amongst the three generations that shared our too-small house, and a caregiver at all times. She was an amazing woman, and she holds a unique place in my heart in that she's the only family member I have with whom I don't have any memories of anger. Well, that's not quite true--I have met my five-month-old niece, and she's been an utter delight, so far. Wait until I've known her for thirty-four years, though. Heh.

Now that the time for mourning has "officially" passed, though, I want to pass along some advice for those of you in the awkward position of having to comfort the bereaved; it's not by any means common sense, but people need to know this. When you've lost someone, there are so many emotions, so many things going through you all at once that you can get fragile--for each person, this will express itself differently--and the actions of those around you, no matter how well-meaning, can make things so much worse. What I'm passing on now is advice for anyone who should have a friend who loses someone close.

1. Avoid the words, "I'm sorry," at all costs. No matter how they fit into a sentence, it leaves the mourner in a position where they have to say something like, "It's okay," because the words are so commonly used as an apology. If you need to say anything, it really doesn't hurt to be formal about it. "I offer my condolences for your loss," or "I'm thinking about you, but don't know what to say," will be received much better than, "I'm sorry," (Why, was it your fault?) or "I'm sorry to hear that _____ passed away." (Fine, next time I lose someone, I won't tell you.)
2. Keep your offers simple and as non-intrusive as possible. "I can listen if you need someone to talk to," is much better than, "Do you want to talk about it?" During a time of grief, even simple yes-or-no decisions are complicated.
3. If it's convenient for you, bring simple foods over that you know will get eaten. Someone grieving will appreciate not having to think about shopping, but bringing over a buffet tray with a variety of foods will leave half of it out and half-spoiled. Similarly, a stressed, tender stomach is less likely to appreciate the whitefish salad than it will simple cold-cut sandwiches.
4. Unless otherwise asked to, keep visit times short and quiet. A mourner will likely want to sort out his or her own thoughts and feelings without interruption. It's tempting to want to coax a person out of his or her shell, but this is one time when it's generally okay to withdraw inward.
5. Offer only what is comfortable for you to give, whether food, a hand at tidying, an ear to listen, or a hug. Giving too much will just leave the mourner feeling indebted or even guilty of "taking advantage."

I realize that much of this might be common sense, but after what I had to cope with during the week following my mother's death, I have my doubts about ANY of that being common sense. It left me with a great deal of anger toward much of my family and my mother's friends and acquaintances; at some point, I might write an account of exactly how badly that mourning period went.