A week ago last Saturday, I witnessed a terrible motorcycle accident in the neighborhood. I was the first person to check on the victim, and was not prepared for what I would find. The young rider had died instantly, but the scene was like something out of a war zone. When the police arrived, even veteran offices were shocked.
I was not able to recognize the young man, and spent the evening in sorrow and shock for him and for his family, whoever they were. It would all be magnified the next morning, when I found out his identity. He was our neighbor, the 21-year-old son of the family just a few doors down from us.
As I went through last week, going to the wake and the candlelight vigil and the funeral, crying with neighbors on the sidewalks, at the mailbox, and sometimes right in the middle of the street, I tried to find some way to use this experience to help others. As a writer, I decided I would come up with a list of tips to help those who grieve. Though my own sorrow is minuscule in comparison to what this wonderful young man's family is suffering, I thought perhaps I could glean something from it that would give others insight into the experience of someone who has experienced a sudden and shocking loss. Also, since I was struggling to know how to offer comfort to the family of our young neighbor, I could use these lessons to better serve them during this difficult time. The post would be titled something like X Gentle Ways to Help Those Who Grieve, and it would be a wealth of practical advice that for what to do, and what not to do, to most effectively help someone in the depths of loss.
I would quickly find that it's not that simple.
The first tip was going to be, Don't make them make decisions; decide what would be helpful and just do it. I jotted that one down when I found myself utterly overwhelmed by offers to help. I was touched to the point of tears by the warmth of my friends, family, and neighbors who were kind enough to reach out to me, in addition to offering to help the victim's family. But I often completely froze up when faced with a choice. Did I want people to bring meals? Watch the kids? Help with laundry? I just didn't know, and would get extremely stressed out trying to make those decisions.
But then a sweet friend picked me up for a surprise afternoon out, making the decision for me that we should have a girls' day to get together. It's something I normally would have enjoyed, but I simply couldn't handle it in my condition, and my poor friend almost had to deal with a full-on panic attack during what should have been a nice day. So I scratched Don't make them make decisions, and changed it to Let them make decisions about how they want to be helped. Not ten minutes later, I found myself frozen with new choices about what assistance I might need, and I changed it back to Don't make them make decisions.
Almost everything I wrote down, I would eventually contradict. Let them be alone was quickly replaced by Don't let them be alone. Don't ask them how they're doing was edited through tears to Ask them how they're doing, then back to the original. Don't pressure them to talk about it was erased; so was Encourage them to talk about it and Ask if they want to talk about it.
As I have experienced from being in both roles, the person who grieves feels broken and raw, but the person who hopes to comfort those in grief carries her own cross too, the heartache of feeling powerless to take away the suffering of those she cares about. Everyone touched by a tragedy is transformed in some way, and the process of transformation is sometimes painful. A terrible loss, especially one that was unforeseen, thrusts those who mourn and the community around them into a crucible of the human experience in which the facades that shield us are burned away, and our innermost selves are left vulnerable and exposed. And when we're all walking around in that state, bumping into each other as we bumble around, trying to heal, trying to help, trying just to get through the rest of the day, it's going to be messy.
And so I never could come up with a good list of tips. What helps one person may not be what helps another; what helped someone this morning may not be what helps him this afternoon. The only two pieces of advice that I never scratched out were Pray and Hope. If you'd like to comfort someone who is mourning, pray for him, for the soul of his lost loved-one, and for guidance for yourself that you might know how best to serve him. And hope. Hope not only that everyone involved will experience healing and renewed faith, but that we will all one day come together again, in the place where there is no grief.
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What a horrible experience for everyone. We will pray for you and your family as well as the victim and his family and the entire neighborhood who must all be experiencing profound grief. Your post was wonderful and very helpful, as I think the conclusions you came to were right on. True compassion on the part of the person wanting to help will come through in these situations, no matter what they end up being able to do. Just knowing someone cares enough to ask is sometimes enough. God bless you and all involved.
Condolences to the family, and prayers for the young man, his family and all who grieve for him.
I ride motorbikes and know there are risks, yet whenever I hear of the death of a fellow rider it still remains shocking and sobering.
Despite the risks I believe the desire to ride is akin to St. Augustine’s pursuit of the Good and the Beautiful. A Holy longing.
Riding bikes started me praying again - I would pray the “Hail Holy Queen” before riding, which led me to praying while riding, which led to praying the rosary, and that’s when things changed for me.
I haven’t commented just to share my experience but in the hope that non-riders may see the desire to ride as something beyond a mere selfish pursuit of excitement.
I pray that this young man Ride in Peace for eternity.
Dear Jennifer,
We are praying for all involved. As someone told me when I lost my mother very suddenly, “the only way through grief is grief itself.”
This is very sad. There really isn`t much you can do besides letting them
know you are available for anything that they may need. I personally have experienced several tragedies in my own life and have had the unfortunate
experience of having to be the first one at too many accidents. I would be concerned for your own state of mind as I know, if you let it,it can effect you. Having lost a father and a sixteen year old brother in a small plane crash some thirty years ago I can tell you that time and Faith
and Mary Mother of Consolation are what get you through it. It is a very personal experience that has to be born by the person who goes through it all. With grief counseling I discovered that I was really grieving for myself, and that realization, only comes with time. Sadly, I far to often have been the first one at a motorcycle accident scene and have seen, not only young lives destroyed, but older and middle aged husband and wife riders whose lives were completely changed through an accident that wasn`t even their fault. When you have no protection around you there is no forgiveness of error, yours or anyone elses. I don`t think it is a good to risk so much, but that is just from my own personal experiences.
Human nature being what it is, people will do what people want to do. All
we can really do is pray for them. It is after all in God`s hands and though we may not understand it all, He dose bring good out of bad things that happen and of course only God knows why things happen to some and not to others again, that relates to Faith. Pax
As someone who has experienced terrible grief, I would add that the grieving process is different for everyone. Not everyone wants to let themselves get hugely emotional in front of people, even if they know it’s okay to cry. Not everyone goes through the stages of grief in an orderly, identifiable way. And counselling, in my private opinion, is also not for everyone. Talking things over with friends and family who know me well helped me the most; going to a stranger, kind and sensitive though they may be, and having to introduce myself and give them a taste of my life story and all was not helpful at all. I can see how it would be very helpful to other people, but it was more awkward for me than anything else.
Here is a great place for grief resources:
http://www.bandbacktogether.com/grief-resources/
Be patient with yourself—it’s a process.
I am so sorry. So, so sorry for this grieving family, and for you, as a mother, who had to go through this too. My prayers go out to all of you. As I get older, and after experiencing loss,I realize more and more that my own children are simply “on loan” here,from their true Father who created them. We can’t hold on to them. Letting a beautiful young man go, in the full flower of his youth is especially difficult…Tears for his parents. In dealing with my own sense of powerlessness in the face of sudden loss, I couldn’t have dealt with it as I did, without the prayers of so many good souls. I have a wound on my heart that never goes away, but there is no bitterness there, only an aching reminder that somehow I am more identified with Him, who shared His cross with me, and gave me the grace to bear it. This grace truly amazed me.
Lea S.
I agree with your comment about grief being a different road for different
people at different stages. Not the same for everyone. I was certainly not
recommending counseling, I only wanted to share my own personal experience in the hope it might help another. Actually I didn`t go for counseling till a second tragedy struck the family some years later. It is
as Jen stated, “a process” and as you so rightly pointed out, one that is
different for everyone. Pax.
So sorry to hear of this whole situation. We have offered many prayers for you and for the families involved.
This whole article is spot on. There never is one right thing to do.
I think it comes down to jus “Be there”. If you are there you can struggle to talk or not talk. You can decide that now is the time to step out and leave them alone, or step in and offer hugs. I think Being There is so hard because you never ever know what is the right thing to do. But the grieving family will remember (sometimes with laughter) your struggles to care for them in their time of loss.
We lost my father to cancer many years ago and the people who came back day after day to check on us during my father’s illness and after are still kept close in my heart. They didn’t always do or say the right thing, but they loved us and did their very best to walk with us. We had some terrific faux pas in those early days after my father’s death, but they were all made in the name of deep love and an effort to ease our suffering.
It sounds too simple to say just be there. But sometimes that is all you can do.
Seek always to be a channel of God’s grace, and express Christian charity. There is no telling what, at any moment, will be to a grieving person’s authentic good. You can only stay close and pray that God will reveal to you what He wants you to do.
In short, in addition to hope and pray, love.
I think I would add one thing to your “Pray” and “Hope”: “Be There”. Be silent, be speaking, be cooking , be sitting in a corner quietly, be doing whatever is asked of you at the moment, by the grieving or by God. Just don’t be hiding out because you “don’t know what to do.”
Praying for you and for this family.
I remember when my mother died, a friend actually asked me, “If I go to the wake, do I have to go to the funeral too?”. 6 years later, I remember how clearly that wounded me. Like I was burdening her with my grief. People feel guilty asking for things. One good way to phrase it is, “I would love to do X if that would be helpful to you.”
Our son died in a car accident 19 months ago. I am slightly offended by this post and I don’t offend easily. Here is a valuable resource for parents and family of those who have experienced the death of a child.http://www.compassionatefriends.org/home.aspx.
After 30 plus years of law enforcement and seeing the devastation, I can only say it still takes my breath away every time. I pray for those involved when responding to crashes. I have made dozens of death notifications. My heart goes out to all involved. Mother Teresa said the only thing that made sense to me at times of tragedy. “We ask the wrong question, Why? Instead we need to ask, Who? Who will help us through this? Jesus.” We can only Trust in Jesus, and look forward to the Resurrection. Ave Maria!
Theresa, what about Jennifer’s post has offended you?
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I see no points that are too finely drawn or critical or mean-spirited… and as someone who has recently lost her father, and long ago lost my sister to a murderer… I can’t imagine what Jennifer might have said, even a smidgen too harshly for anyone to be offended.
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On the other hand, if her post has brought up feelings or memories from your experience - that’s entirely different from being offended.
I don’t mean to be difficult with you, but on behalf of all of us reading… do us the favor of explaining what is offensive so that we can all be more compassionate in the future.
Renae,
I can’t speak for Theresa, but for my part I found Jennifer’s frankness about immediately wanting to use this highly personal tragedy as fodder for just another blog (X things about grief)...slightly off-putting.
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I’m sure she didn’t mean it to come across badly and I’m sure her grief - and even publishing motives - truly are sincere. But it comes off as a bit shallow. The fact that it’s only been two weeks…
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There are some very serious and significant things that really deserve the respect of being reflected on privately for a good while before one considers using them for a blog post. A post that began “a few years ago, I was the first one to the scene of a terrible motorcycle accident,” would have read much better.
Marie
September 20, 2000 our son Eric, 24, was killed by a negligent driver. He was a beautiful young man. A gift. At 4 years of age he raced from his Dukes of Hazzard bigwheel and said, “Mommy, when I grow up I’m gonna be a poweezeman and marry you.” In 1998, Eric graduated from the Sheriff’s Academy in Lancaster, Ohio. Badge #287. Captain Rollins wrote Eric’s memorial and described Eric’s life as, “Random acts of kindness and simple acts of love.”...this is etched on his headstone. I often refer to those first few years as the year’s of great sadness. I ask God all the wrong questions, constantly. When the broken heart survives and doesn’t die one is left to pick up the pieces. I started attending The Compassionate Friends, a national support group for parents who have lost children of any age to any cause. It was there I learned I am not alone. It was there I began to celebrate the beauty of Eric’s life gone back to God. For the following five years I was the Chapter Leader of TCF in central Ohio. We are to carry one another’s burdens and in doing so healing is shared and so rewarding. Do’s and Don’t. Love me. Do not tell me he’s in a better place. Do not tell me you know how I feel…unless you do! Do not tell me God needed another angel. We all should know better. Do not judge me when I do not attend celebrations as this often can be a reminder of my loss. A card of remembrance on his birthday, priceless. Your silence is like salt on a wound. Your tears are like salve…and nobody has ever died of tears. Most importantly…Just say his name. In memory of Eric James Hurst 7/16/76 - 9/20/2000
Terri and Theresa, my most heartfelt condolences on the loss of your sons. Terri, I have several friends who have lost young adult children, and your words echo theirs. It is so important to talk to parents who have experienced what you are going through, and so important to remember. I once called a 5-year bereaved friend to ask if it would be appropriate for me to send a letter to another couple on the first anniversary of their son’s suicide, and she said that every word, every card, every mention of her son’s name was treasured. People don’t mention him because they don’t know what to say; they worry about opening a wound or reminding them of a sadness, as if they could ever forget. She also made clear without saying it that every single day since her son’s death has been survived only by heroic effort on her part and the grace of God. God bless you both, and bathe you with His grace and peace.
Dear Jennifer…Please accept my sincere sympathy on what you are going thru having witnessed this dreadful accident and then having to grieve further because it turned out to be someone you know. (And such a promising young man at that…so tragic.) Your articles come to me via the NC Register Blog I get on my Kindle, so I usually don’t have a chance to enter comments, but I wanted to let you know how much I always appreciate what you write. As I am sure others have told you, please allow yourself ample time to recover from this awful occurrence…you really could consider yourself a survivor of post-traumatic stress syndrome. So I hope you will not hesitate to seek and accept the help and support you need specific to these issues. God Bless You and your ministry. Warmest regards///
Jennifer, my condolences to you and the family of this young man. How terrible to witness something such as that. Hang in there, and be comforted by the fact that God may have chosen you to be the first to administer to this young man after this terrible accident, if only to pray for him and comfort others. As sad as this is, I believe God give graces to those who mourn such terrible loss - take comfort in praying for this young man and offering up masses for his dear soul. God Bless you and all those who have lost children.
If I could write one tip about how to help the grieving, it would be to acknowledge their pain, their grief. Let them know that you know they are suffering, and that you are waiting for them when they are ready to do whatever they need to do- talk about, move on, be normal, wail. Whatever, as they process through their grief and emerge on the other side.
This evening at mass, my husband and I offered heartfelt prayers for this young man, his family, and you. It occurred to me then, what a blessing it was that you were able to tell this story.
You have got to be kidding. You witness one terrible accident and within a few short days your thoughts are on how to blog about it? Whatever efforts you may have made to console the family, is a few days sufficient for you to determine you can offer a list of do’s and don’ts? I find this incredible. Your default setting is: how can I summarize this experience into bullet points on my blog? Yech. This gives me the creeps. But I have felt this way before with your posts: summarizing meaningful life into a shortlist. It’s cold.
Some of the criticisms of Jennifer here are predicated on the notion that there is a proper way and an appropriate time in which to process grief or discuss grief. In my experience as a priest and Army chaplain, I have seen people struggle with grief to such a degree that it would be years before it would be appropriate to discuss the issue, and then only after substantial counseling. I have seen other people process grief very quickly. With apologies to the late Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, there is no single way to process grief. What seems “cold” or “efficient” or “shortlist” to one person is entirely appropriate and helpful for another. Some people are helped by a shortlist of bullet points—others need a narrative, and others need silent companionship, and that’s just the beginning of a list of different way people are helped. Some have a desire to process the information quickly—others desire years before they are able to talk about it, let alone blog about it. If one finds Jennifer’s insights here helpful, great—Jennifer intends this as a means of assistance; if not, isn’t it sufficient to discern “This is probably not meant for me,” and move on to the next post or blog without comment? This particular approach to the issue of grieving is not a matter of moral discernment, but of personal taste or individual temperament. Non disputandem de gustibus.
This entire piece reminds me of a powerful passage in Scripture that quickly describes Jesus as weeping: John 11:37. One would not automatically think of God Incarnate as weeping over death, since He knows the final outcome. And so this truth of our Savior, Jesus, both man and God is one who weeps; and this is a powerful example in our walk in Jesus’ steps. My neighbor just passed away from cancer 3 months ago and all I remember was silently holding his wife just after the hearse took his body from their home. Weeping…that is, grief… and silence is good.
Another reflection on this Scripture:
http://blog.adw.org/2011/04/weep-like-jesus-live-with-jesus/
This is an important issue.
Nearly 7 years ago I lost my wife-we had 5 kids. The youngest at that time was 5 months old. One was very ill. If there is one thing to do it is to
1) give a check (better this than cash since if it is cash the agrieved may not remembr who gave it and oddly some people resent not getting a thank you note!!!
2) Offer to help and be ready if they take you up on it. When you are admitted to that broken world you get to see the family as it is. Women can be very kind and helpful but also gossipy and MEAN when they encounter imperfection. Please respect privacy and dont insist on throwing things away e.g. old furniture in the yard, toys (aside from perishable food). THis brings me to….
3) Don´t repeat DON’T (especially if family of the aggrieved) offer to remove reminders of the deceased. This happened to me and I was oblivious to things-and let them proceed. People carried off huge amnounts of clothes (even a few of mine) and if the aggrieved is a man he is left with precious few items to remember the loved one and carry out the grieving process. Some grieve and find belongings painful to behold. I had a wound that still exists. One thing that was taken was a Christmas card that mt wife had written but that we never sent. I discoverd this on our first Christmas without her and intended to frame it. It was discoverd and taken by a niece who never had anything hand written by her aunts (my wife). When I inquired about the item the family was resentful and a scene occured over it.
4) Ask when people in the house have a birthday and invite the aggrieved over for dinner. One time this happenned (they weren’t aware)and it turned out to be my birthday. It was a very nice surprise. They may decline (afraid of their own emotional outbursts) but the thought will be very appreciated. The following year repeat it-they will be better able to cope and really appreciate it.
5) Be careful about judging appropriate responses to loss. If a brother appears unmoved or very cheerful dont assume he didn´‘t love his brother-he may take years to deal with the death. Many aren’t able to cry very much due to shock at the event or due to being so busy with family matters to deal with.
Bill
P.S. Help get the word out about the funeral so people show up. Invite lots of friends & acquaintances-even possible ones. Have masses said. Don’t assume they went straight to Heaven-Purgatory is part of our faith. Also consider organizing a 9 day rosary novena involving the family if they are Catholic. Ask the family if they want to participate either at their house or at a friends.
I commend you, Jennifer, for this post and think that it does a good deal to illustrate that practical compassion is an act of mercy that is so needed and one that comes in many shapes and sizes depending on the circumstances.Discerning through prayer and allowing the Holy Spirit to guide you to offer the best and most timely means of sharing your compassion is really the best means of giving the right gift to the family and friends of those who have died. I also agree with many of the other comments about particular acts of charity that were helpful.It will be 7 years next month that our own 15 year old son died and I still am consoled when a close friend or even an acquaintance mentions his name or remembers an incident from his life.Immediately after his sudden death the visits from close friends who stayed and took over, the food just dropped off at the door with a hug, the cards that contained checks to help us pay for the funeral, the buckets of flowers our Garden Club neighbors dropped off; all were just the right gift at the right time. In the month after the funeral, just walking to the mailbox was a comfort as I scooped out the notes, Mass cards and remembrances from friends who were just hearing or who knew that we needed the encouragement all over again each day.There was a friend of our son Tim who composed a song in his honor and another friend who gave a speech about him months later.We are all so connected through our common Father that even the death of a neighbor should bring us to tears and awaken in us the desire to pour on just the right balm for his family. It IS NOT an exact science and even the awkward attempts made with love are treasured. Always and always prayers are the best, but don’t stop there!
When the bereaved one is ready, let them talk about the loved one they lost. Some well-meaning people try not to mention the deceased person’s name thinking it is easier on those who are mourning. Nothing could be further from the truth. The loved one’s life had great meaning before (and after) their death and they are not to be forgotten.
Having lost an 18 year old brother in a motorcycle accident many years ago, I still find peace just remembering him and I feel greatful to God for the years that I got to share with him. My condolences and prayers go out to this family.
Tom T
“I agree with your comment about grief being a different road for different people at different stages. Not the same for everyone. I was certainly not recommending counseling, I only wanted to share my own personal experience in the hope it might help another. Actually I didn`t go for counseling till a second tragedy struck the family some years later. It is as Jen stated, ‘a process’ and as you so rightly pointed out, one that is different for everyone.”
No worries, Tom—when I wrote my comment I actually typed it out without looking at the other comments first, so it was a coincidence that I was talking about counselling right after you had mentioned it. :-) Wasn’t planning on discounting anything you said, your comment was actually very thoughtful!
I, too, have lost 2 sons (one murdered in 1990 and one took his life in 2006). I miss them and pray for their souls every day. I do not dwell on their deaths, but on their lives.
I am in full support of Jennifer’s article. There is no “one right way to help” or “one right thing to say” when someone loses a loved one. Just being available is “the one right thing to do”. Further, I see the reason Jennifer chose this topic for her article is very clear to me ... IT IS HER WAY TO HEAL.
I am very surprised that so many people have taken offense to this post.
As others have said, grief affects everyone differently, and Jennifer is obviously the sort of person who turns immediately to “What can I do?, “How can I help?’ —and guess what… a writer writes. That’s what she does.
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Also remember… Jennifer is grieving as well, in a different way than the young man’s family. Her grief is centered on having seen death up close. A certain loss of innocence. This may be her first experience with death of young person. Death that was not expected or welcome as it may be with someone who is sick or aged or declining.
She gets to deal with death her way… and that may be writing about it.
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When my dad died suddenly and unexpectedly last summer, I rushed to the airport to get home as fast I as I could. As I sat at the terminal in the early morning hours with my red face and tear-swollen eyes, surrounded by strangers - I opened up my laptop and poured out a blog post about losing my dad - and hit post before I boarded the plane.
Was that cold or calloused? Do you want to judge me for that?
Cold? Quite the opposite, as I received more condolences for my loss on my blog than I did from friends who know me in real life. Not a single one of my friends came to my dad’s funeral - and that’s a blog post I haven’t written because they would be crushed to know how hurt I was and still am. ( plenty of dad’s though, main street was jammed as everyone waited to turn right to the funeral chapel!)
Thank God I had my blog and could see that people care.
As a result have a memoir of those moments realizing that the most important man in my life was gone.
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A writer writes… and writing is a medium for their grief.
TRS, you are right. It was, rather, cold of me to post the comment that I did.
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I was not going to comment, after having read the complete article, and recognizing in the second half of it that Jennifer’s grief was real and genuine and she’d quickly moved past the initial “let’s act like this is any other blog topic” stage (which I realize now was probably actually some sort of grief stage such as denial or shock something). But one commenter’s obliviousness to _why_ someone might find the first part of the article off-putting led me to go ahead and post my thoughts.
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I probably should not have posted them even so, seeing as the whole reason the first part of the post is off-putting is because it seems cold and shallow (not saying it *is* cold and shallo, but it *seems* so - as a writer, I’m sure you can understand that some things come across in ways they are not intended and there are better and worse ways of phrasing things) - but I realize now, what is it to criticize someone who’s recently suffered great trauma, but coldness and shallowness on my part?
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I apologize for posting the comment and I hope that I did not increase Jennifer’s pain. Or yours (though, not having read your blog post about your father, I have no reason to imagine that it would even fall under the same criticism, but whether it would or wouldn’t I have no wish to wound you and hope you will accept my apology).
Sorry that people have given Jennifer a hard time. I have written before for publications-it can be very hard. When you lose a person and especially when you saw it then it can be devastating. Its an unforgettable event. If on top of it you have a job as a writer then understand if an event this shocking-uppermost in your mind-quickly becomes a topic for an article. Writers deal with things writing. Accountants or bankers or nurses or decorators may not blog about it but a writer will. Also it IS an important topic. I think this article was useful. I am disappointed that people thought this was creepy.
I commend the writer for broaching the topic.
Siobhan, Thank you for your kind words. They mean alot. Jennifer, Thank you for writing and sharing your experience. The young man who cared for Eric as they waited on paramedics later shared he went to counseling for two years. What happened to you and this family is traumatic on different levels. The language of the bereaved is often overlooked. I appreciate the dialogue. You and this young mans family will remain in my prayers. God Bless.
When my first husband’s father - who lived with us, and who was in many ways a second father to me - died suddenly, I was simultaneously overwhelmed by the helpful-things-people-did-that-weren’t-so-helpful (like the person who said, “Hey, a massive coronary is a great way to go!” Really? REALLY?) and the helpful-things-people-did-that-were-EXTREMELY-helpful (like our friends who came over to our house - which we had moved into just days before - to clean and unpack and stock the fridge for us). As the days went on, I often found myself refusing to come to the door or talk on the phone because I just did not have the wear-with-all to deal with even the kindest, most well-intentioned interactions. This was a total 180 for me, the consummate extrovert, who had never before just let a phone ring, or avoided an acquaintance in the grocery store. I just COULDN’T handle making small talk.
That’s probably why the memory from that week that sticks out to me, that I am grateful for over and over, was sitting with my priest on a bench outside the hospital. Father Jess did not say a single word, he just put his arm around me and let me stare into space. And cry. And sigh. It meant so much to me to know that I did not have to fill the air with words or pretend that I was okay or even listen to platitudes. I could just be sad for a little while, and someone was there to be sad with me.
I work in Bereavement care every day, so the idea of how to respond appropriatly to a grieving person is a dynamic I live on an hourly basis. I was fully taken aback to see the criticisms of Jennifer. I consider myself pretty sensitive to how things could be taken and I took her eagerness to write about this as a way to open up dialogue and educate - even if in the process she learned that it isnt as easy as one would hope. Like others said…writers write…that is part of her path to healing, not a self serving way to come up with a catchy blog topic. Part of charity is assuming the best of people unless proven otherwise.
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I think that Mr McIntosh makes some good practical points…those are especailly important in my world, I care for babies who die and the family is often left with decisions about a newly set-up nursery…parents have to get through that milestone-task in thier own time.
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One huge benefit to this discussion is something I see every day…that death itself is not openly discussed enough in our society…we should never be casual or flippant about it but it is for now (especially infant death) a profoundly taboo topic and it leaves people struggling in how to cope. You can’t imagine the stories my bereaved moms tell me about how harshly they are treated when they reenter the world after their baby dies - partially because the person interacting with them is so unprepared that their shock turns to panic that turns to mean.
Missy - in Jennifer’s defense I’d ask you to consider that by nature her writing here HAS to distill grand spiritual truths down to a short checklist. A newspaper column or blog post can only be so long; it’s likely that the folks at the register have told their columnists that each post cannot go over a certain word limit. A book about finding God through the experience of grief may not be able to “cover all the bases” in 80,000 to 100,000 words; how can we expect Jennifer to do so in just 2,000 words? In each of her posts, she shares a small fraction of her insights on a particular subject, and she does so on a tight deadline. No, none of her posts perfectly captures the lofty truths of God, relationships, life and death - that’s impossible. But many of her posts help many people to find and hold onto a small truth. And that is a good thing.
I just read the blog post, and then I read the very last comment and I went “in Jennifer’s defense”?? Going to have to read the comments tomorrow…or maybe not.
I lost a close co-worker in Oct 2010, lost my only sister Nov 2011, and unexpectedly lost a 26 yr. old son January 2012 (yes, six weeks after I lost my sister). Oh, and my mother and mother-in-law, about eleven and twelve years ago. So, anyway, I liked what Jennifer said. And I will probably be back tomorrow to say more, if I can find the time. God bless you all.
Oops, my sister died in December, not November, which does make six weeks. I’m not a night person and my number memory/math ability are the first to go to bed. :)
Grief takes on a life of it’s own. I have found that just being present helps the grief stricken. Don’t say, “Call if you need anything”, be prepared to not be perfect in sharing the experience, let them be sad, don’t try to fix anything or make people feel better. Prepare for your offers to take the grief stricken out for the day or invitations to do something to be rejected…but don’t give up on them. Pray. Cry. Smile.
I saw this post on your other site—really you must have some sort of Munchausen by proxy syndrome. Why is everyone feeling sorry for you, Jennifer, when it’s the family in pain? Do you thing your’s any better than anyone else because of your response? It’s only common human decency!. You just get your kicks on telling people what a good person you are because you did a right thing. Putting up with other people’s grief—what a martyr you are!
Caroline, a little harsh, dont you think? Especially when considering that Jennifer witnessed the gruesome death of a neignbors’ young adult son right in front of her - whom she couldn’t recognize. I’m no expert but I’m pretty sure such images are not so easily forgotten.
crs—
We are paying millions in taxes for young solders to get blown to pieces in Iraq and Afghanistan. Have you ever watched the list of soldiers less than 25 years-old that have been shown at the end of the Sunday talk shows? Besides, the emergency crew witnesses such events every day and they have dedicated their lives to learning how to help people in crisis.
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Jennifer is using her short brush with reality to make herself look like a proper, selfless Catholic. I wonder if anyone in the family is reading her post. I’m sure they will be please that Jennifer reminded them of how grateful they should be to her. I’ll bet Jennifer loved playing her part.
Caroline, I just am not seeing the cold self-aggrandizement that you seem to be getting from this post. I don’t think Jennifer thinks the family of this young man owes her anything - it sounds to me like she was truly affected by this terrible tragedy, and that she was trying to think of some way to bring good out of it - even if that good was just a blog post that would help others in similar circumstances. And I see no harm in that.
If you know a young person in your neighborhood that suddenly dies and you see it in all the bloody horrible detail it must be devastating. SHOCKING and a real waker upper that we are mortal-sort of a rude slap in the face or bucket of ice cold water when you weren’t expecting it. Why are we giving
Jennifer Fulwiler a hard time here????
Caroline, my impression from reading her articles in the past is that Jennifer is a selfless Catholic. She didn’t believe in God before and now she does - and I’m guessing as a result may bear a constant Cross from friends and family who dont believe. She seems to be constantly in search of wisdom around things related to God and doesn’t seem to let things she may not fully understand ever stop her from seeking to learn more. And she seems to be a genuine person of action.
Me, for example, I’m a person who has believed in God for as long as I can remember - its never been a question. However, I often rest on my laurels and don’t follow through on doing the little things that God may want me to do - to care for our fellow human beings, even in the smallest of ways. I’ve had it much easier spiritually than most - a path less confusing. And in spite of having these strong beliefs, I have sinned ny whole life and continue to do stupid things knowing that God is watching. That is the true definition of selfishness in my opinion.
People like Jennifer seem to struggle with the smallest things of faith, as well as the largest as this article shows - and yet God works miracles through them and lifts them up as an example to others. I like reading Jennifer’s articles because I have much to learn from those who once didn’t believe in God and now do—they are blessed in a very powerful way.
Caroline, I dont understand your hostility. The Soldiers/Marines who die in the war and the accident victims that are a daily challenge to EMS workers do nothing to decrease the profoundness of the experience that Jennifer had being the first person with that young man after his accident.
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The fact that she isnt trained and alert for this to happen and the total unexpectedness of the event must have added to the trauma of it. Many of us have seen sudden tragedy and been affected by it. When I was 16, I saw a young man crushed in a bloody, messy accident and my recovery to process that experience would have been set back months by a comment like yours. She has the right to work through this and I think that the family of the man she attended were likely comforted that as his souls left his body, he was with a person who valued it.
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So we get that something about us upsets you…rather than throwing stones, why not tell us what it is?
Writers write…so we can help others. We let ourselves be vulnerable publicly, so that others can relate…so we can help you, so we can encourage you, not as knowing more but even as we ourselves explore and learn. For someone to criticize an author who shares of herself remains incomprehensible to me, even after all my years of life. It seems to me that the first “rule” of Christianity - after the love of God and all intertwined with the love of God - the first “rule” of humanity, even, is to love and respect one another. If only we would do that before we begin to comment.
Let us all say AMEN to the comments of Margaret Mary Myers when she pointed out the “rule” of Christianity. It’s time to end this debate and pray for all ... the grieving, those pro and those con.
Jennifer, I’m so sorry that you were confronted with this horrific experience, but I pray God will use it and you to further His redemptive work in the world.
When our friends appeared on our doorstep after their youngest daughter had tragically drowned the day before, we opened our home to them to do whatever was necessary. (Their own home was not available at the time.) We made clear that whatever they wanted or needed was theirs - talking, quiet, use of the internet to communicate with their family, additional clothing, use of the washing machine and/or dryer - whatever they needed, we would provide or do.
I went into a very intense “Martha” mode for about 48 hours as I moved, as if in a trance, through cooking, cleaning, cooking, cleaning, cooking, cleaning. (The ordinary activity helped me some.) I also played and read to with their two little boys, giving the parents some time to take care of what they needed to do and providing some sense of normality for the boys.
But I also found space for contemplating the tragedy and helping prepare for a beautiful service for their daughter, coming up with a photo montage that was both heart-breaking and healing for the family and for their friends.
My point is that I did what I _could_ do, and _all_ that I could do. That’s all we can ask of ourselves. Even though that horrible day is still resonating in our grief and in the subsequent consequences from the tragedy, I know that in serving them, I was serving Him, and I thank God that He gave us the opportunity to help.
I still cry when I talk to someone about it, but it helps to know that I gave every part of me that I had available. It doesn’t change the fact of the death, but it does release me from survivor guilt - I’m not left with “woulda, coulda, shoulda”.
I believe sharing it with people who are going through the same thing would help. Although we can never really tell exactly how one person grieves and what help they need. I’d suggest they look into www.deathletters.org. The grieving process is a long and painful one but knowing someone is going through the same thing gets it a little less difficult.
outstanding work. see you,
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