“She’s watching you from above”
“She already knows how you feel”
“She’s so proud of you”
“I bet she’s having a blast in heaven”
The above is a shortened list of pre-approved phrases that people think are okay to tell you when you’ve lost a parent. I call the list bullshit. I know I should mind my manners and thank people for their kind words, but after hearing these things for seventeen months, I’m tired of being told the same thing.
Do I think that these phrases aren’t true? No. I like to think they are, but it doesn’t change the fact that no matter how much fun my mom is having in Heaven with all the activities, I want her here.
It’s not that I’m not appreciative of the people who are trying to say nice things. I’m just tired of not talking about the real issues. Below is my list of things people wish they could say, but can’t,
“I’m glad it was your mom that died and not mine.”
“I can understand what you’re going through, I was really upset when my dog died.”
“It must suck to be you.”
“I read your blog and think, I’m so glad that I’m normal.”
Except, that last one was actually vocalized a weekend ago by a girl trying to have a heart to heart conversation with me. The only issue was that she was too drunk to sit up straight, so instead she was laying over the couch reaching towards the floor trying to hold my hand. I don’t volunteer my hands for people to hold when talking to me, but I eventually gave it to her so she would stop looking like she was going to grope me. I was already uncomfortable with the impending deep and meaningful moment she was trying to create, but when she started talking about my blog I perked up a little bit.
“Sometimes, I get really stressed about my life. I think about grading, and classes, and boys, and I get so overwhelmed. And then I read your blog and think, I’m so glad I’m normal.”
I let her hand drop to the floor.
“Well, Erin,” Crap, what am I supposed to say to that? I can’t believe she actually just said that. “I’m so glad you got something out of reading it.”
I’m not sure what I was most offended at; the fact that she said something that isn’t on the list of pre-approved phrases or that she told me I wasn’t normal. However, even though I was offended, Erin had a point. And it was slightly refreshing that she said something that probably everyone thinks when they hear you’ve lost a parent at a young age, “I’m glad it wasn’t me.” Then they probably imagine what it would be like when their own parents die in order to empathize with you. Only they’re thinking about themselves, and not actually how we feel – which sometimes leads people to say some not so sensitive things.
I left the party upset with what Erin had said. I felt like she was attacking this new Bethany who had to recreate what it meant to be a daughter to no one. She wasn’t attacking me though. She was just drunk and saying what no one sober will say. That they’re glad it happens to us and not them.
What actually is upsetting about this is that Erin had to be drunk to say it.
There’s a limit on what people can and can’t say about grief in society. There are “grief etiquette” classes to help teach people how to help others going through a loss. It seems that so much effort is spent in making sure people are careful not to upset the grieving, and to make sure they don’t say anything out of turn or offend the bereaved, but really, I think all the grieving want is a little dignity.
Ask me the questions about what it’s like to have someone die. Ask me how my mom was when she was alive. Ask me the questions about what it’s like to have to figure out what to do with the possessions that someone else placed value on, but look like trash to you. Ask me the questions about what type of final words you say.
Ask me the questions instead of putting the grieving in a separate category, let us help you not sound ignorant. Open up a conversation about death. There’s no need to follow the rules about how to talk to someone that’s grieving. Just talk.
(Image: Pinterest)
I lost my Dad on Nov 21, 2013. It has been really hard since he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer on Jan 2013.
Losing him has been really the hardest road I’ve had to take. He was the person to whom I’d have the best conversation upon losing someone important. He was the first really important person my brothers and I have lost.
Thank you for your post. Lots of hugs 🙂
Bethany, I lost my mom to ovarian cancer 2 months ago yesterday. Each and every day I wake up hoping to find I’ve snapped out of the nightmarish 61 days that have passed. I’ve been going through the motions of daily life, grad school, relationships, every day activities but nothing is the same. Nothing makes sense and nothing seems right. What gets me the most about people and their reactions to my mom’s death is the fact that most people don’t bother to say anything at all. Even my family who professed they’d “be there for me” haven’t said a word to me about how I’m feeling or anything of the sort. My mom was my best friend, my confidant, my councilor, and my one true outlet. Losing her, I lost all of me…or so it feels. I can’t begin to describe my sorrow of your loss. I don’t know you, and I didn’t know your mother, but what I do know is the feeling of being so enraptured in sadness, emptiness, and loneliness that I’m sure you have felt or are feeling. I don’t know if you pray or what your thoughts on that are, that’s neither here nor there, but I will pray for you. I will pray for peace and for healing. I will pray for your broken heart to slowly piece back together so that you can grow into the place you need to be in at that time. I have nothing else left to say other than you are not alone.
In this blog, you have told us what not to say to someone who has lost a loved one. Recently, one of my close friends has lost someone close to her, and I don’t know what to say to her, and what is ok to her. Please help me. Thank you