For those of you new to my blog site, I posted some thoughts, feelings and sorrows this past summer about a neighbor girl who died of cancer at twenty-two years old last July. Not only was she a friend of my kids, she was a beautiful, vivacious, loving and high spirited young woman....someone you just don't forget.
Even though I think about her quite often, I no longer worry about her. Of course, I am still sad that she is not here physically and I still mourn her absence and early death, but I know she's ok. It's her Dad that I am concerned about. He's having a hard time without her and doesn't have a big circle of close friends to lean on.
I don't even know him that well considering I've been acquainted with him for years. He lives up the street from me and is the father of Alex....the girl who died at 22 last summer. Over the years, he and I have politely exchanged words, carried on short conversations, joked around some, and have always waved to each other as I drove by his home. Other than those kinds of interactions, we really don't know each other at all, but what I did know all along, and have recently rediscovered, is that it doesn't matter that I don't know him that well. He is a human being who possesses similar feelings, emotions, and concerns as I do. He is a brother, a son, a friend, an employee, and a parent.....a grieving parent who just lost his daughter. I am a human being who has siblings, children, parents, and friends also. I have not lost a child, but constantly fears that loss and can empathize deeply with those who have lost children. It is a nightmare for all parents. The difference is, he has lived the nightmare.
This is where I stepped into his life. Shortly after Alex's death, I told him I would be checking on him to make sure he was ok. My plans were to call him once a week because I understand that sometimes the most difficult time for a person who has lost a loved one, is immediately after the death....after all the company has gone home to continue their lives. After the hustle and bustle of death and burial is over, in most cases, the individual feels more alone, feels more sorrow, and feels more despair than ever. No longer is he occupied with family and friends' consoling, comforting, and warm meals delivered. Everyone goes back to living their happy and busy lives while leaving the mourning Dad, in this case, to pick up the pieces of what's left of his life. Not only does Alex's Dad, Doug, live alone, he is an extremely private person. I sensed that he was probably not going to seek out people even during this lonely and sorrowful time of his life. He's just not that type.
I called him once a week for a few weeks and briefly spoke with him....mainly listened to him, but after that, he stopped answering the phone and wouldn't return messages. (He tends to do that...remember, he's a private person.) It would have been easy for me to give up on him, reasoning that he obviously doesn't need me since he's not returning calls....but I persisted....which isn't like me. I started knocking on his door to say "hi" and chat for a few minutes. I reminded him what my earlier committment was to him....to check on him once a week. Not only did he agree, he seemed to appreciate my visits. He never invited me inside (his space) but would always step outside to chat on the front porch.
Don't get me wrong about my persistence. I wasn't like a high pressuring sales person who kept banging on his door until he appeared. I'd only stop by occasionally....sometimes weeks would go by without any contact....but I never completely forgot about him or let him go. I can't forget Doug. He's a hurting man....a hurting parent....a human being who is sufferning with the worst kind of sorrow...the loss of a child.
A few weeks ago, I was sort of surprised that Doug was interested in attending a support group for parents who have lost a child. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd end up cancelling on me at the last minute.....but he didn't.
Last night I picked him up and took him to the support group as I promised I would. (I figured a private man.....an almost loner type of man would not drive himself to an unknown support group no matter how bad he was feeling.) I couldn't help but wonder what we would talk about while driving to our destination....but I had no trouble conversing with this human being whom I vaguely knew.
Not only did Doug participate in the sharing of feelings among this group of grieving parents, I felt like he truly appreciated the opportunity to be with other parents who truly "understood" what he was going through. He seems to think that unless you've been through it, you can't "get it." Although I understand where he's coming from, I feel that I can empathize pretty deeply with these parents simply because justthe thought of losing a child brings tears to my eyes and aches to my heart.
I mainly just sat among these parents who had lost children of all ages through car accidents, suicide, illnesses, and disease. I sat, listened, wondered, got teary eyed, and loved each and every one of them privately.....especially the woman to my left. She was one of the new ones, like Doug. Her daughter died last May of meningitis....without warning, without much time to prepare for death. This woman sat quietly, listening, sharing some, and mostly crying softly throughout the meeting. My heart went out to her instantly like it did for Doug. I sat next to her wanting so badly to console her and yet knowing that I couldn't possibly. At the end of the session, I asked her if I could hug her. She allowed me to. I hugged her, held on to her, hoping she could feel my love and sadness for her. At that instant, she and I were just two Moms who were sharing the loss of a child.....her child....but it could have easily been my child.
One of the biggest complaints of these mourning parents was how others responded to their children's deaths. Their sharing reinforced the way I approached Doug after his Alex passed away. Don't ever ignore the situation. Don't ever act or pretend like the dead person has not died! Acknowledge the death of your friend's loved one. Acknowledge your friend's feelings and sadness. Don't be afraid to share your own feelings of sadness with your friend who has lost a loved one. Yes, it can be uncomfortable, but it's necessary and loving to acknowledge instead of ignoring the death of anyone. If you're still not sure how to approach your friend, simply ask them. Ask your friend if he/she would like to talk about it or would rather not. Allow your friend to guide you, but never act like nothing has happened, because all that does is deepen the burrows of sorrow and pain of your loved one.
We'll see if Doug ends up going back to next month's support group. It's up to him. I'll encourage him, but not push him.
This is how I stepped into Doug's life....the private man, the loner, the parent who lost a child, the human being with feelings. I am not a private person, a loner, or a parent who has lost a child, but I am a human being who possesses feelings and empathy for others. Plus, my nightmare became his reality.
Even though I think about her quite often, I no longer worry about her. Of course, I am still sad that she is not here physically and I still mourn her absence and early death, but I know she's ok. It's her Dad that I am concerned about. He's having a hard time without her and doesn't have a big circle of close friends to lean on.
I don't even know him that well considering I've been acquainted with him for years. He lives up the street from me and is the father of Alex....the girl who died at 22 last summer. Over the years, he and I have politely exchanged words, carried on short conversations, joked around some, and have always waved to each other as I drove by his home. Other than those kinds of interactions, we really don't know each other at all, but what I did know all along, and have recently rediscovered, is that it doesn't matter that I don't know him that well. He is a human being who possesses similar feelings, emotions, and concerns as I do. He is a brother, a son, a friend, an employee, and a parent.....a grieving parent who just lost his daughter. I am a human being who has siblings, children, parents, and friends also. I have not lost a child, but constantly fears that loss and can empathize deeply with those who have lost children. It is a nightmare for all parents. The difference is, he has lived the nightmare.
This is where I stepped into his life. Shortly after Alex's death, I told him I would be checking on him to make sure he was ok. My plans were to call him once a week because I understand that sometimes the most difficult time for a person who has lost a loved one, is immediately after the death....after all the company has gone home to continue their lives. After the hustle and bustle of death and burial is over, in most cases, the individual feels more alone, feels more sorrow, and feels more despair than ever. No longer is he occupied with family and friends' consoling, comforting, and warm meals delivered. Everyone goes back to living their happy and busy lives while leaving the mourning Dad, in this case, to pick up the pieces of what's left of his life. Not only does Alex's Dad, Doug, live alone, he is an extremely private person. I sensed that he was probably not going to seek out people even during this lonely and sorrowful time of his life. He's just not that type.
I called him once a week for a few weeks and briefly spoke with him....mainly listened to him, but after that, he stopped answering the phone and wouldn't return messages. (He tends to do that...remember, he's a private person.) It would have been easy for me to give up on him, reasoning that he obviously doesn't need me since he's not returning calls....but I persisted....which isn't like me. I started knocking on his door to say "hi" and chat for a few minutes. I reminded him what my earlier committment was to him....to check on him once a week. Not only did he agree, he seemed to appreciate my visits. He never invited me inside (his space) but would always step outside to chat on the front porch.
Don't get me wrong about my persistence. I wasn't like a high pressuring sales person who kept banging on his door until he appeared. I'd only stop by occasionally....sometimes weeks would go by without any contact....but I never completely forgot about him or let him go. I can't forget Doug. He's a hurting man....a hurting parent....a human being who is sufferning with the worst kind of sorrow...the loss of a child.
A few weeks ago, I was sort of surprised that Doug was interested in attending a support group for parents who have lost a child. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd end up cancelling on me at the last minute.....but he didn't.
Last night I picked him up and took him to the support group as I promised I would. (I figured a private man.....an almost loner type of man would not drive himself to an unknown support group no matter how bad he was feeling.) I couldn't help but wonder what we would talk about while driving to our destination....but I had no trouble conversing with this human being whom I vaguely knew.
Not only did Doug participate in the sharing of feelings among this group of grieving parents, I felt like he truly appreciated the opportunity to be with other parents who truly "understood" what he was going through. He seems to think that unless you've been through it, you can't "get it." Although I understand where he's coming from, I feel that I can empathize pretty deeply with these parents simply because justthe thought of losing a child brings tears to my eyes and aches to my heart.
I mainly just sat among these parents who had lost children of all ages through car accidents, suicide, illnesses, and disease. I sat, listened, wondered, got teary eyed, and loved each and every one of them privately.....especially the woman to my left. She was one of the new ones, like Doug. Her daughter died last May of meningitis....without warning, without much time to prepare for death. This woman sat quietly, listening, sharing some, and mostly crying softly throughout the meeting. My heart went out to her instantly like it did for Doug. I sat next to her wanting so badly to console her and yet knowing that I couldn't possibly. At the end of the session, I asked her if I could hug her. She allowed me to. I hugged her, held on to her, hoping she could feel my love and sadness for her. At that instant, she and I were just two Moms who were sharing the loss of a child.....her child....but it could have easily been my child.
One of the biggest complaints of these mourning parents was how others responded to their children's deaths. Their sharing reinforced the way I approached Doug after his Alex passed away. Don't ever ignore the situation. Don't ever act or pretend like the dead person has not died! Acknowledge the death of your friend's loved one. Acknowledge your friend's feelings and sadness. Don't be afraid to share your own feelings of sadness with your friend who has lost a loved one. Yes, it can be uncomfortable, but it's necessary and loving to acknowledge instead of ignoring the death of anyone. If you're still not sure how to approach your friend, simply ask them. Ask your friend if he/she would like to talk about it or would rather not. Allow your friend to guide you, but never act like nothing has happened, because all that does is deepen the burrows of sorrow and pain of your loved one.
We'll see if Doug ends up going back to next month's support group. It's up to him. I'll encourage him, but not push him.
This is how I stepped into Doug's life....the private man, the loner, the parent who lost a child, the human being with feelings. I am not a private person, a loner, or a parent who has lost a child, but I am a human being who possesses feelings and empathy for others. Plus, my nightmare became his reality.
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Comments
I suspect you'll see EP on this soon. : )
Monte
the world could use more of your kind of generosity and empathy