We wall off our world with words.
The ones we speak and the ones we swallow down so they don’t escape our lips.
But, as Mr. Rogers says, “Anything human is mentionable.”
Even death.
Read the rest here: Anything Human Is Mentionable
In the South, we tend to pussyfoot around hard truths because most of us grew up with the admonition, “Now just be nice!”
And while that makes for charming dinner table conversation, it makes for lousy long-term relationships.
Because we all know the longer you live with, work with and love another body, the more things that should be said but aren’t add up.
Pretty soon the pile is so big it obscures the love or fun or shared interests that should be holding hearts together and instead they drift apart.
I haven’t been all that good at following the southern tradition of code words and cute phrases that mask true intent. But I used to be guilty of it from time to time.
These past years of heartache and hardship have pretty much stripped all the veneer that was left off my tongue.
I doubt you will find a soul that would call me a silver-tongued devil. They’re more likely to call me a brash something else.
But I have important things to say and I don’t want to waste time sugar-coating them. I don’t want the meat of my message hidden inside a puff pastry of silly words. I believe truth should be easy to swallow but not necessarily tasty.
Often the most efficacious medicine leaves a nasty aftertaste.
So I’m here to tell you: don’t drown your important relationships in unsaid words, unshared feelings, unacknowledged wounds.
All that does is guarantee distance grows between your hearts.
If you let the distance become too vast, or the pile of unsaid truth get too high, you might just find you can’t reach that far or that high to reconnect.
It takes a bit of brave to say what’s important and uncomfortable.
But it’s worth it.
And it’s really the only way to authentic and lasting relationships.
This came up in a bereaved parents’ support group and I thought it was a great question: “When you meet someone for the first time, do you tell them about your missing child?”
It’s one of those practical life skills bereaved parents have to figure out.
I remember when it dawned on me a few months after Dominic left us that I would meet people who wouldn’t know he was part of my story unless I told them.
It was a devastating thought.
I had no idea how I would face the first time it happened.
Since then I’ve developed a script and guidelines, but it can still be awkward.
If the person I meet is going to be part of a ongoing relationship or partnership then I tell them fairly soon about Dominic. Depending on who they are, how I sense they may be able to deal with it and if I feel comfortable enough I may give more or fewer details. The main thing I try to communicate in sharing is that I will behave in ways they might not understand without the context of child loss. I’m not looking for sympathy or special consideration but “bereaved parent” is as much a part of my identity as “married”.
If I am attending a social function and it’s a casual “meet and greet” then I won’t mention Dominic in terms of his death unless the conversation lends itself to that revelation. No need to burden acquaintances with my story or run the risk of changing a celebratory mood to a sad one.
I always say I have four children-because I do. But I don’t have to give details. If the person insists I tell them more about my children it’s fairly easy to steer the conversation toward a detail or two about my living children without the person noticing it doesn’t add up to four.
I make sure to tell health professionals about Dominic because the stress, physical, emotional and mental changes grief has wrought are integral to my treatment plan. I’ve had a couple of new doctors since Dom ran ahead and received different responses from them when I shared. One seemed to understand the impact of child loss while another just continued typing without any acknowledgement of what I revealed.
My son’s death is not a dirty secret.
I don’t have to hide it to protect others.
But it is also not a “poor me” card that I fling on the table of relationships trying to manipulate others into showing me special consideration.
I want people to know Dominic.
So I share.
I don’t want people to only think of him in terms of his death.
So sometimes I don’t.
It depends.
You don’t have to bury a child to know that changing long-standing family traditions around holidays is a hard, hard thing.
Just ask a parent trying to work out Thanksgiving and Christmas for the first time after an adult child marries. Suddenly the way things have “always been” are no longer the way things are.
Holidays typically involve so many more people and family members than everyday get-togethers and each person brings expectations, emotions and personal history to the table.
So, that is why I decided to run this series of posts NOW. Because one of the things I have learned over the years is that giving people time to adjust to change is a good thing.
Read the rest here: Grief, Holidays and Hard Conversations
Here they come round the bend like a pack of dogs chasing that rabbit on a racetrack.
No way to slow them down, no way to step to the side and ward off the relentless message that Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming soon-so, so soon.
Internet ads scream, “You’ve got to buy it NOW! You’re running out of time!”
Billboards, radio and television ads, and calendars count down the days.
Decorations assault my eyes and ears and nose (thank you pumpkin everything!). I cannot get away. There’s no where to hide.
So I have decided to take the offensive. I will do the things that must be done as quickly, as efficiently and as quietly as possible.
I am sending Thanksgiving cards instead of Christmas cards. I like the fall colors better than traditional yuletide hues anyway. No one says the yearly update letter has to be postmarked in December.
Our gift-giving is much simpler now than before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven. I’m less inclined to wrap dozens of presents to pile under the tree and more likely to give cash or gift cards along with a heartfelt note. So I will get all this together before the weather warrants a fire here in the Deep South.
I’m easily overwhelmed.
And too much of anything just seems like entirely. too. much.
Instead of loads of decorating that involves changing out all the everyday with holiday, I will put out a few bright things and lots of candles.
Flickering light in approaching darkness speaks hope to my heart.
I will concentrate on people, not on things. I am making space on the calendar for casual conversation instead of constant motion.
I won’t be swept along by the yuletide current, struggling for air, barely making it to January and glad the holidays are over.
Sip and savor.
That’s my motto.
I’m sticking to it.
For those using these posts as a guide for navigating the holidays after loss, I would recommend you view them all before having those hard conversations. I may not be giving the information in the best possible order. The last posts will contain ideas from other grieving parents and grandparents that might be very helpful in deciding what’s best for you and your family. You can share these posts to your own Facebook page or follow the blog via email to have access to them for easy future reference.
You don’t have to bury a child to know that changing long-standing family traditions around holidays is a hard, hard thing.
Just ask a parent trying to work out Thanksgiving and Christmas for the first time after an adult child marries. Suddenly the way things have “always been” are no longer the way things are.
Holidays typically involve so many more people and family members than everyday get-togethers and each person brings expectations, emotions and personal history to the table.
So, that is why I decided to run this series of posts NOW. Because one of the things I have learned over the years is that giving people time to adjust to change is a good thing.
If you have made a Holiday Journal like I suggested, then use a page to list all the people that are typically part of your family’s holiday plans-you might want to make subheadings by holiday (and there may be other special get-togethers your family observes, so include those).
That list is a starting point for the people you may need to communicate with about the upcoming holidays.
Don’t feel like you have to include each individual in a unique communication-you can focus on those who are “in charge” of the gatherings/traditions and request that they pass it along.
Here are some specific tips for reaching out:
Understand that they DO NOT understand.
Don’t wait.
Decide how you will communicate your message.
Acknowledge their loss.
Use “I” statements.
Expect resistance.
If you can, offer an alternative.
Extend grace.
I know that all these suggestions require additional emotional energy when we feel we are already tapped out. We are already carrying a load that can crush a spirit-it seems unfair that we have to initiate the conversation, offer alternatives and give grace.
But they do not understand.
And they may not know where to start.
We have to remain focused on the goal: Surviving the holidays.
If your family includes young children, how you approach this season is even more important. You are building memories for them, shaping their childhood experiences and helping them learn to cope with what will be a life-long challenge-living with grief.
Consider printing this post and slipping it in your journal if you are making one. That way you can refer back to it easily.
Tomorrow: What the bereaved need from family and friends…
thelifeididntchoose 