No Sweet 16th Here

I wasn’t sure if I would be able to go today. But then I reminded myself that he would’ve gone for me. And, you don’t exactly show your respect and love for someone by being a chicken shit.

Today was the one-year anniversary of the death of my step-dad and father figure, Bob. I can’t believe it’s gone by so quickly; yet it also seems like so much has happened. You old-timers have sporadically read things about this, but if you are a newbie and have some time, I would ask you to check out this post I did for his birthday back in April. It was rather difficult to go to the cemetery today by myself, but that seems to be my M.O. of late.

My mom spent the day with their best friend, so I just made my own plans without intruding upon theirs, and I was kind of relieved to let someone else absorb my Mom's grief for the day. This past year would definitely rank as the most challenging I’ve ever had.

Unless you’ve been through this yourself, you don’t realize that not only do you lose a parent, but you suddenly seem to become the parent to the spouse left behind, particularly if it’s the one that was more dependent and emotionally-fragile. My mom was already somewhat of a handful, so add a real tragedy to the mix and you get the last 12 months for me.

I honestly don’t talk my feelings all that much because as what this quote from the show Six Feet Under says so perfectly: “people grieve in private because it is too embarassing.” I think grief has to be the most naked of all emotions in that you feel as though you're stripped raw and people can see everything, regardless of whether you wanted them to.

It’s not something most can easily share, and defintely not with just anyone, for you become instantly vulnerable with an emotion that many others are not equipped to handle or understand. And because of that, more often than not, people unintentionally say strange things that actually are worse than saying nothing at all. It becomes a Catch-22. Why bother talking to others about it when it only makes both sides uncomfortable?

I often wonder if we're more embarassed because we've told ourselves that we have to be brave or if it's because of the way others react, which oftentimes trivializes the griever's feelings and makes him/her feel inadequate for even trying to talk about it. A prime example is from the movie Love Actually, where Liam Neeson calls Emma Thompson because his wife just died and he wants to talk, and she cuts him off because her kids come in and want to talk about their school Christmas program. I think the kids could've waited 15 minutes to share the news, but maybe that's just me...

With the other people I know who’ve lost a parent much earlier than expected, there is a kindred spirit in understanding the awkwardness of how others react, and most really develop “the skills” until you go through it yourself. However, I just thought I’d add a couple of pointers, in case someone close to you experiences this and you’re not sure what to do:

Never, ever say anything with an “at least” as the preface. As in “at least he’s in a better place” or “at least she didn’t suffer.” NONE of these types of phrases could EVER make the other person feel better. Just empathize with him/her with an “yes, that sucks” or “I’m sorry.”

Attend the funeral if you are in the same town and your work will allow you to. Even if you didn’t know the deceased well, you are showing support for your friend and that he/she matters.

If you want to show you care, but perhaps aren't the best with words, bring the family something to eat and/or drink. It’s one less thing they have to worry about. Or, offer to try to help with arrangements for the service or figure out how to get distant relatives to the service, etc.

If the person is talking about their difficulty and/or frustration of having to deal with the surviving parent that is on the verge of a breakdown, don’t make glib comments or say something like “good luck.” “Good Luck” doesn't apply to death and misery, and it's a sign you're not even paying attention and/or don't care.

I never thought I’d have to actually say this because it seems like such a no-brainer, but understand that the person may not be the greatest friend for a while afterward and may not be in the best mood. Don’t make it about you and take it personally, for he/she will come around when they’re good and ready.

And in case anyone's thinking to himself or herself that others are just trying to be helpful and that I'm not being fair, I will also point out that one of my oldest friends lost her mother about four years ago, and she said I was the person who helped her family out the most. I brought them dinner; I helped her write the eulogy; I helped them set up the service. All I thought about was how I would feel if I were in her shoes and how I would want to be treated. Isn't that what we're supposed to do?

So, in answer to the question I had posed to me the other day as to why it is so important for people to want to be with someone; I can say that while I’m capable of doing things on my own, there are just some things that I don’t think we should have to. And this past year has been one of them.