Silence is Golden...

The news hit me like a ton of bricks... Cruel, heavy, unwieldy clods of baked earth that sat heavily on my chest. It seemed as though the air had been pressed out of my lungs and the tears that were forming in my eyes stung relentlessly.

I had been enjoying the late fall sunshine with a friend and had entered our home to see the look of utter shock on my husband's face. There was just nothing fair about this news, and yet its state of injustice in my mind wasn't going to change the sheer fact that it just was. The loss was not my own, I had never met the young lady who had passed, but the loss was that of a dear friend and it crushed my heart to know the pain she must be feeling.

I was overwhelmed by the urge to pack up my car with a few overnight things and head to her, immediately. And then I stopped. My friend isn't alone, family surrounds her and it was family that I wasn't all that familiar with. Would my presence be welcomed or intrusive in the face of such grief? And since I didn't know the balance of her family well, would they be stoic when what they really needed was to let loose the flood of overwhelming sorrow? I sat down heavily in my chair and wept, a feeling of helplessness washing over me.

Should I call? Should I ask if I should come, knowing full well the answer in the face of such drowning grief would be "no, please don't." In trying to determine my own reaction to this situation, I put myself in my friend's shoes, as if I could ever fully comprehend the magnitude of such a loss. Even so, trying to understand another's grief, my empathy almost paralyzed me in place. I would honor the direction to stay put... Against my desire to be helpful, I instead respected the family's privacy.

It reminded me how so often we try to make other's feel better because we feel helpless. We attempt to assuage or ease their struggle because we want them to be comforted and we want to be comfortable. In doing so, more often than not, we do the wrong thing, say something insensitive or remain silent in paralytic fear of doing the thing that will cause even more harm.

It took a day and a half's worth of prayer until I truly felt that staying put was the right move on my part. But the thought of intruding on someone's grief process, when family is really the only remedy for this kind of loss, that was a faux pas far worse than I could readily wrap my head around. I am not a stranger to loss and I am a witness to many ill thought out attempts to soothe a mourner's heart. I have come away with some basics that I think warrant sharing.

When you don't know what to say, say very little. As a word-smith, I struggle with this most. I want to use my vast vocabulary to somehow impart the sorrow and angst I feel for the person who is hurting. It isn't necessary and it isn't likely to help anything. Eloquence has it's place, but not here. Not when things are so raw with emotion. It is much more likely that in my nervousness to say the right thing, I will choose the wrong adjectives, the wrong sentiment and then I have done something that cannot be undone. If I feel I must say something, "I'm so sorry," is a good bet. Sitting with someone's silence is hard, sitting with their grief and tears is often much harder. Taking back words said in haste, no matter how well meaning, is impossible.

If you want to send something, flowers are traditional, food is better. The family will be inundated with lots of mourners converging on their home for quite a few days. If you live close, making a casserole and salad and bringing it over, staying only as long as necessary to drop the dishes if you are not specifically invited, can be a Godsend for the weary hosts. With the internet the emergence of many food providers is another great way to send something if you don't live close by. For a few dollars, you can add something that makes a huge difference with very little waste left over. On the sentiment card simply convey your sorrow for the loss and leave your name. You may never know how much the small thought may make but not having to cook or think about heading to the market is such a burden lifted.

Lastly, remember that once the dust settles there is still a lot to deal with. The guests will leave and the extended family will return home, but the loss is still very real. Your friend may need you in ways they never thought possible. It may be as simple as heading over with coffee to sit and allow them to talk or cry. You may be tempted to help clean up - do so only if it doesn't make your friend uncomfortable. Sometimes it is only being present while the mourning take a much needed rest or a walk around the neighborhood. Many times the simplest things are the most thoughtful. We don't have to make elaborate meals, or spend gobs of money to bring comfort in this time, mostly we just have to be there to respond.

My heart is heavy for my friend and her family. There are just no words to say that with any kind of depth. I will stand by, waiting for the right time to sit with her and hold her hand. I will not need words then, she will just know...