The other day I had an uncomfortable exchange with someone that started with a phone call and ended with a series of texts.
I’ve learned a lot about the unhelpful things folks say to grievers and at this point I can let most remarks roll off like raindrops.
When someone says, “God needed another angel” or “I know just how you feel” (and they do not share my experience) or “at least you have other children/grandchildren” I usually smile, cut the conversation short and hang up or walk away.
So when this old family friend called and asked in a chipper voice, “How are you??!!”, I told them not well since my granddaughter just went to Heaven two days ago.
That invited several platitudes.
I endured them, hoping for a quick end to a painful conversation.
Then the spouse chimed in because they could not contain themselves and felt compelled to share a bit of friend circle news with me.
When I said, firmly but politely, I could not listen to that right now, they got upset.
I genuinely try to educate people outside the grief community when I can so I sent a text explaining that (especially!) when a loss is fresh, such conversations are incredibly painful.
The person responded by telling me I was rude and they were highly offended.
In the early days after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, I would have curled up on my bed and slept away the pain such an exchange inflicted on my wounded heart.
I’m stronger now.
And I’m not just fighting for myself, I’m fighting for my newly bereaved son and his wife.
So after giving it some time and some thought, I wrote a text.
People might consider it harsh but I will not make death easy for others. It’s not easy on the families directly impacted and it’s not my responsibility to manage the feelings of folks who are not even in the grief circle.
I gave graphic details (which I will not recount here to spare my precious readers who actually lived through things like them) regarding the brief life and difficult death of my precious Holly.
I wanted to shock them into realizing the giant gap between the imagined experience of child loss and the LIVED experience of child loss.
I concluded by saying that if “rude” was the epitome of awful in their world, I was thankful they didn’t have anything to compare it to.
I am quicker to extend grace after all these years because I know many, if not most, folks are genuinely doing the best they can.
But I have boundaries.
I am not required to set myself on fire to keep others warm.
And I’m doing no one a favor by allowing someone who wields words like swords to go unchallenged.
There are still lots of times I remain quiet.
This wasn’t one of them.
thelifeididntchoose 