Article: Rules of grief etiquette (something to share)

[John-Danielle Marie's Daddy]

Rules of grief etiquette

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Rule #1:
Don’t be afraid to talk about the person who died. Have the courage to say the deceased person’s name.
Do this whether the death occurred ten days, ten months or ten years ago. People die, but our love never dies. Let me say it again, love never dies. That is what grief and mourning are all about. We have to find constructive ways to deal with all of that love for someone who is no longer here to receive it. I love Ellen today, four years after her death, as much as the day she was born. I fell in love with her that day and my love for her will never die.

If you knew the person who died, please share your memories. If you think a father would have loved to have seen his daughter make that great soccer play, tell his widow. If you didn't know the person who died, ask about him or her. What was his favorite color; what did she like to do on a beautiful, sunny fall afternoon?

If you don't talk about the person who died, it is as if he or she never lived at all, and that is even worse than the death. A bereaved father I know told me that when his family and friends refuse to talk about his absent son, it is as if his beloved child had been killed all over again.

A caveat to this rule is to ask the bereaved person if this is a good time to recount a memory. You might say, "You know, I just remembered something about (use the name of the loved one)." Or, "I would like to ask you something about your (wife! husband! dad! mom! child! sibling ...). Is this a good time for you to hear it?" If the answer is no, stop there. But ask them again a few days or weeks later. At some point, the bereaved persons will be not only ready, but very grateful for your gift of remembrance. Nothing brings me more joy than hearing a memory someone shares about Ellen.

Another caveat: When you talk about the person who died, your worst fears might come true and the bereaved person might cry, but those tears are good and very healing. You can look at those tears in a positive light. I once came across a list of about ten milestones for a bereaved person that lets that person know that he or she is making progress on the journey of grief. All of those milestones began with the phrase: You know you're feeling better when ..." One of the milestones is, "You know you're feeling better when you can say your loved one's name or tell a story about your loved one and not cry.

This milestone does not happen magically at some point in time. We no longer cry when we hear something that used to make us cry because we have finally told our story enough to take the raw, stinging pain out of it. How many times each of us has to tell the story before we can do it without crying is unique for each one. Some bereaved people seldom cry when talking about the person who died; some cry every time for years.

Rule #2:
Saying nothing to a bereaved person about his or her loss is wrong. Saying the "wrong thing" sincerely is actually better than saying nothing at all.
Say, "I'm sorry," or "I wish you didn't have to feel so much pain," or "I don't know what to say, but I really care."--you feel as if you've already said the wrong thing, acknowledge it, but don't change the subject to cover it up.

Rule #3:
Listen and do not give advice.
Allow the survivor to talk. Say, "I don't know what your loss is like, but if you want to tell me about it, I would like to listen." If the bereaved person doesn't want to talk, wait and ask again another day. Keep making it clear that you want to listen. Ask again and again even years later. Because love never dies, the pain from the loss never totally disappears. The deep, sharp pain of new grief does change. It becomes less intense, less overwhelming. With adequate support, the bereaved person will be able to manage the pain instead of being at the mercy of it.

Rule #4:
Remember significant days.
Some potentially difficult times are holidays, the change of seasons, the absent one's birthday, wedding anniversaries and, of course, the anniversary of the day the person died. Don't ignore these special and significant times. If you know the survivor(s) well, ask how you can help them on those days. If you don't know them well, send a card and/or write a note telling them you are thinking of them, as well as of the person who died. It is always appropriate to write down a memory and give it to the family. You don't have to wait for a holiday to do so.

Also, remind the family of memories they have shared with you. Many bereaved people are fearful that their memories will fade away, so writing them down is a marvelous gift. You could use a holiday as an occasion to send any family pictures of the loved one that you might have. Do something in memory of the deceased (such as donating money or time to charity, buying a book on a subject they care about and donating it to the library, or planting a tree or garden) and tell the family about it. Let the family know that their loved one has a place in your life, too, and that you will never forget them or their loved one.

Rule #5:
Include bereaved people in invitations.
If you always invited them before, keep doing it. In your invitation, make it clear that you are aware that it might be hard for them to accept. Ask if you can do anything to make it easier for them. Ask if lighting a candle at a dinner party to represent the beloved person would be comforting.
Reassure the bereaved that you will not be hurt if they decline, but don't pre-decide for them that an occasion would be too difficult for them. Let them decide for themselves. If they decline, respect their decision, but don't stop inviting them. What is too difficult to do at two months might become do-able at eight months.

Rule #6:
Apply all of the above rules to anyone who had ever had a loss, no matter how long ago. It is never too late to start applying these rules.
Remember that love never dies, and the residual pain will never totally disappear. Last spring, I was at a PTA meeting where some moms were casually chatting about how difficult it was to schedule parent-teacher conferences when you have children at two schools. No one there seemed aware of the fact that I would love to have had his or her troubles. I was sad, angry and totally distanced from everyone in the room. It isn't that I didn't want them to talk about their children I just wanted to tell them, "If you do think of my loss, don't change the subject or ignore me. Acknowledge that the conversation made you think of Ellen, and you were wondering if I was thinking of her, too. Acknowledging my pain always causes it to melt away.