You’ve likely surmised that I’m jumping back into my true calling of teaching others how to bless their friends during times of loss, even if it’s just for an occasional week here and there.
I want to offer up a subtle, gentle instruction that I hope can serve you well.
I’m talking about the times when we’re visiting or chatting with someone who has recently lost a loved one who may:
- Be elderly
- Have experienced many health issues through the years
- Struggled through a terminal diagnosis such as cancer
- Suffered through any other innumerable circumstances where their death seemed imminent
The human tendency is to want the grieving person to receive (from us?) some immediate relief from the pain of their loss.
I listened to a video recently where the gentleman addressed the situation where we encourage the griever to, “be strong.” He suggested that perhaps we want them to be strong, for our sake.
I’ll let that sit for a moment.
But there is an element of truth there in how we often interact with someone who is grieving.
Let’s take the situation of an older person passing away and look a little deeper into the dynamics of that. I’m as guilty as anyone who often asks the family, “So how old was your husband/dad/grandpa/?”
The unspoken sentiment is that the pain is likely less because he was elderly and “you saw this coming.”
I can tell you from personal experience that, even though Dale was 80 when he died and even though I clearly saw him declining, it didn’t eliminate the pain.
I even said to him just a few months before he died, “I preparing to lose you sometime in the next year. Not sure how to do that, but I’m trying to figure it out.”
The assumption could easily be made that I probably wouldn’t be grieving as deeply because of all that.
The reality is that I deeply grieved his death – and still carry much of that grief eight years later. Being older, being frail, expecting his death did virtually nothing to lighten the pain I experienced in the aftermath.
We can find a similar dynamic when someone dies after prolonged suffering. We wrongly assume that the relief of their pain somehow overshadows how deeply we grieve this loss.
Because is it not true that we rejoice for our believing loved ones who are now experiencing the perfection of Paradise? Are we not relieved when someone’s long-term suffering has finally come to an end?
Of course there is an element of truth there. So, what to do with all that?
Here’s how I’ve been addressing that complexity:
With the death of an elderly person (when you may want to know their age):
“How old was your wife/mother/ grandmother? Of course she lived a good long life, but it’s still never easy to lose them, no matter the age. She’ll always be your mom.”
With the death of someone who endured long-term suffering:
“I’m sure there’s some sense of relief that his/her suffering is over, but that still doesn’t diminish the depth of your loss.”
A response along those lines does two things:
- It gently suggests where there may be some relief, without making it the main point.
- It validates the deep pain, regardless of the situation.
Those of us who deeply grieve the loss of a loved one, do so primarily silently and alone – with God as our constant companion. Finding a safe place with someone who clearly and comfortably acknowledges our pain is one of the greatest gifts you can bestow on someone who is hurting.
If you haven’t been doing this “right,” well, join the club. I did it wrong for decades. What matters is that you may now have a new perspective, and perhaps a new ability to be the friend who isn’t afraid of someone else’s pain.
Who comes to mind as you’ve read through this post? Do you feel a bit more prepared to respond when these situations inevitably arise?
I hope this shines a new light on the reality behind those “frozen smiles” you may see on the faces of your friends and family. Behind them may be someone longing for the compassion you can offer.
Rejoice with those who rejoice,
weep with those who weep.
Romans 12:15
Good article w/ helpful suggestions