It is not just regular universe folk who struggle with what to say to the grieving; those of us forced into that world also have challenges…but for different reasons.
When I meet someone and they introduce their unimaginable event, the first words out of my mouth are always, “I am so sorry”. Those four words — and sometimes a hug to go with them — are profound in their simplicity. After that, the conversation can go in all sorts of directions, especially if the person does not know my story.
If — and that is a big if —the mom or dad speaks of their grief and how it came to be, more often than not, they get the I-wish-I-had-said-nothing-look on their face because once those unspeakable words are spoken, panic, fear and regrets takes hold of them. When that happens, they can no longer maintain eye contact and their body starts to turn away from me, like it is taking on a defensive position in order to protect itself. Then their thoughts, like subtitles on a TV screen, race across their face…oh why did I say anything? I just made her feel uncomfortable! Now what? Should I just start talking about something else or should I try to keep going? I just want to go home! Now they are in a pickle…a part of them wants to talk about their child or the specifics of their event, but another part fears the ate-something-rotten-look (I talk about that look in detail in the book) they believe their words will generate.
As for my side of the fence, I don’t convey the rotten look, but I do sometimes mirror the defensive pose because I am not sure how and when to introduce the information that I have some (not all) knowledge of what they are going through. You see, my challenge is not allowing the conversational focus to shift from their child to mine, at least not initially. I am far enough along in my journey to be strong enough to wait to talk about my Sweetie Pie, especially when someone else’s need to speak is clearly far greater than mine. All they really need to know at this point is I am a kindred spirit open to listening to whatever they want to talk about.
You might be thinking, why not just say, “I can imagine what you are going through?” Well, you would be wrong! Each and every one of us is different from each other, and by default our grief will be different as well. There can be some overarching sameness in the grieving journey, but the life and death details that bind that parent to their child are unique to them and them alone. You will never hear me say, “I can imagine” because that would be a lie. I can’t imagine all the nuances of another’s grief, not to the degree of being able create a really accurate picture…there are just too many socio, economic, relationship, etc. etc. differences from person to person to be able to do that. I also think saying those words to another somehow lessens the specialness or individuality of their grief.
The truth is, deep down inside each of us, we believe our grief is more unimaginable than anyone else’s. There is also an inside voice (that none of us like to admit to) that says, no one, and I mean no one, could possibly love their child as much as I do or miss them as much as I do. While logic says neither thought is true because, well, I don’t think you can’t actually measure grief or love, but a broken parent’s heart cares little about imaginable things such as logic. Plus, when they open up enough to talk about their grief, they want to talk about their unique story, not mine, at least not initially. I kept asking myself, “Wouldn’t it be awesome if the grieving had a phrase they could use to communicate a knowing of unimaginable events and just that?” So off I went…yup, you guessed it…more thinking…
I knew it had to be a simple phrase because even with my ability to natter on endlessly, I sometimes freeze in the moment as I mentally reach for the perfect thing to say. First and foremost, the words had to clearly and simply convey a knowing of the unimaginable. They had to say, “Rest easy grieving parent! You are in safe company. You do not need to fear me or even worse hold the grief words you so desperately want to say locked up inside you. Both my mind and my heart are open to hearing your child’s life and death story.” This whole phrase thing seemed like a tall order until the words, I hear you kept running through my mind. When I tried rolling them off my tongue, I smiled…that was when I knew they were perfect.
I am hoping grieving moms and dads adopt this phrase. Maybe we could even start a #Ihearyou movement! But, whether or not this empathetic and loving statement finds the masses or not, the first grieving parent I meet who knows what I mean when I say it to them is going to be on the receiving end of a really big hug! Why? You will have just told me I made a difference in your life and I, why I must tell you that you have done the same for me in the best way I know how:)
