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Death etiquette: no questions, just lend a hand

STEPHEN GAUER

From Thursday's Globe and Mail

Latest comment posted at 11:42 AM EDT 27/05/08

When his granddaughter died, Stephen Gauer found responses ranged from appalling insensitivity to unexpected kindness ...Read the full article

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  1. Thursday Afternoon from Canada writes:

    When my mother died a few years ago in an accident, my wife gave me great advice: 'Get ready for the dumb things that people say when someone dies'. Probably the worst thing I heard was 'I believe that all things happen for a reason'.

    Simple things like mowing the lawn, shoveling the driveway, bringing reheatable food to the door (and not staying too long) made a difficult time so much easier. People who said 'I'm sorry for your loss' covered all the bases very nicely.

  2. B L from Canada writes: STEPHEN GAUER: Good article.
  3. David C from Canada writes: Thank you for this, Mr Gauer, and for the article Goodbye Amelia.

    They should be considered required reading in the handbook of life.
  4. CD W from Canada writes: Does your mother understand that you get to pick her nursing home?
  5. Neon Cab from Canada writes: It's a good article but too heavy on the guilt. When my Dad died, teachers who had been a bane to my existence all of a sudden tried being nice. When my grandfather died, co-workers who never talked to me tried to start up small talk. I hated it.

    If I haven't told you what neighbourhood I live in, I'm not going to talk about my innermost emotions, opinions on death or medical history and whether there are any connections to deadly illnesses. I'm not even going to want to let you know what I eat for supper.

    After a death there's definitely a place for close friends and good acquantances to step up and help; but if you had no place in the surviving relatives' lives before the death, you still have no place in it afterward.

    On that note, though, if you are around the surviving relatives and have nothing much to say, just don't speak. If you're there to comfort someone who knew the deceased well, stay focussed and don't try creating a connection between you and their friends. Blathering on about crap is bad but being silent lets everyone feel as though you're listening.

    Then, when the worst has passed, get talking about the same things you would have talked about beforehand to whoever you would have talked to beforehand to help them get back to a semblance of a normal life. Leave everything else, and everyone else, to whoever else is best able to handle it/them.

    Life after a death requires normalcy -- normal relations with people you relate to and normal indifference to those you don't.

  6. Dufferin County Ontario from Canada writes: My cousin's husband died very suddenly 18 months ago. She and her small children moved half way around the globe to be closer to the rest of her immediate family, so we now keep in touch by phone and email. We sent her a small bouquet on the first aniversary of his death, which she appreciated tremendously. She said the week leading up to the anniversary was horrible, and she was glad to know we were thinking of her (and him). Another friend has also said that kind words or a card on the anniversary are very consoling.
  7. J Snow Clone from O-town, Canada writes: When my grandmother died, my best friend, who had recently lost his father, was awesome. One day he emailed, the next he called, then sent messages on facebook. He even called my parents and brother. He really didn't say much, but he gave us a chance to express what we were feeling. Now when a friend of mine loses a loved one, I see things differently.
  8. The graying pundit from Ottawa, Canada writes: There is often an awkwardness when friends and acquaintances deal with someone who has lost a loved one. Not knowing what to say. Not knowing how to behave. Sometimes the awkwardness comes across as insensitivity when it really isn't. I've found that a simple 'I am sorry for your loss' is often enough. The grievor can then take the conversation wherever he or she wants to.
  9. ex- Easterner from Calgary, Canada writes: Those who have lost a child, or spouse or grandchild don't ever want to forget their memory.

    My advice to close relatives and friends is to not avoid talking about the deceased when anniversaries or special occasions bring back memories. The best therapy is to have a chance to talk to an acquaintance about the memory of someone that you have lost; no matter how long ago.
  10. Steve St-Laurent from Vancouver, Canada writes: As one who received a kidney transplant from my youngest brother eight years ago, this story and the earlier 'Goodbye Amelia' touched me deeply. A transplant is a respite, not a cure, and many do fail. The anti-rejection drugs that keep the transplant working also expose me to more than the usual number of minor bugs, and the possibility of rejection is always there. What I've learned is to value every day. From what Mr. Gauer wrote, so did Amelia. A bad day living is better than a good day dead. Congratulations to the writer for his kind and unselfish act, as well as for sharing the story. May it inspire more living donors.
  11. S Fram from Canada writes: Never pretend nothing happened. Just say you're sorry for their loss. But if the bereaved is a friend, the best thing you can do is not to forget about them. Call them, invite them over, arrange outings. Once the funeral is over and life returns to normal, that's when the person needs the most support. I remember loving it whenever the phone rang, that meant I had someone to talk to. Unfortunately, it didn't ring that often, and I found that I had to do the calling if I wanted to talk to someone. So please, just call, even if only to say Hi.
  12. D M from Etobicoke, Canada writes: While I agree with the other comments about having compassion for those around you who are going through bereavement and about not closeting discussions about death and grief, I am surprised by the fact that no one finds Mr. Gauer's article -- not the one about the transplant, but the one about death etiquette -- to be incredibly arrogant, self-indulgent, and tacky.

    It's stunning that anyone would dare tell anyone else how they should handle the death of a loved one or assume everyone wants it handled and talked about the same way he does. Mr. Gauer hasn't cornered the market on grief. We've all had people close to us die, but we don't feel the need to espouse to others what is proper for everyone in all such circumstances. I didn't want a bunch of people who didn't know my loved one coming to her funeral. That's incredibly vain and superficial. Nor do I want people buying me food or mopping my kitchen floor.

    And as for calling out his mother in a national newspaper: shame. An 88-year old comes from a generation that wasn't nearly as wishy-washy about death as the rest of us. Death happened and it was dealt with privately, not in pseudo-news in the national press (i.e. the usual stories we see too much of: This happened to me. This is how I handled it. I think everyone should hear what I think and take it as truth). While perhaps an odd thing to say at the time, perhaps she genuinely thought reharvesting the kidney was possible and was, at the time, thinking of Mr. Gauer himself. Mr. Gauer should have a talk with his mother, recognizing that she may not be around much longer herself, instead of airing his dirty laundry about his relationship with her in public.
  13. E A from Canada writes: DM, I totally agree. I happen to have a friend for whom flowers were a huge lift at the time of a parent's death (for example). People grieve in different ways, and to attempt to set out a list of rules is bad etiquette in itself.
  14. sarah kay from Ottawa, Canada writes: When my cousin lost his wife (who was also my best friend) after a long illness, another friend tried to 'console' me by saying at least my cousin could now get on with his life. At the post-funeral reception, someone (who was obviously not aquainted with any of the key players whatsoever) approached her husband and casually asked him how he knew the deceased. At the same post-funeral reception, another guest who was in line to offer condolences to the family, stopped to tell the deceased's younger sister that her late sister loved her best in the whole family - while the older sister and older brothers stood right there, listening. Add to this all the clichés about her being in a better place, blah blah blah? It was terrible. In offerring condolences, you are supposed to show love, support and sorrow. Too many people kid themselves into thinking that they need to say something all-knowing, wise or analytical will magically make the bereaved forget their loved one, or stop their pain. In some cases, it makes things much worse.
  15. whatevah D from Canada writes: One of the stupidest things people said to me was when I was 12 and my father died in an accident. People said: be strong for your mother. I actually believed that was the way to go. The result was that me (the oldest) and my siblings never grieved. And we never talked about it... my mom had that stoic, buck up and carry on attitude.

    Anyhoo, recently I had four of my aunts and uncles die over a two year spectrum, the last one being last week. One of my co-workers asked me how old they were. When I replied in their sixties, she said: 'Well at least they weren't in ttheir forties...' I walked away. What do you say to that kind of comment? thanks for being so insensitive?
  16. M W from Canada writes: I'm in my early 30s and lost my father very suddenly, very unexpectedly three months ago. Suddenly, all of the customs and gestures that I had seen my family extend to grieving relatives, the ones that I thought were cliche and awkward (the cards, the flowers, the 'we're so sorry for your loss' greetings) meant the world to me in my time of grief.

    My older relations truly comforted me in ways they didn't realize - the consistency of their words, the respect of their presence - these were all things they knew to be important to a grieving family. While friends my age were more personal in their messages of grief to me, I also found their response more varied and more difficult to accept at times - not calling because they didn't know what to say/fear of saying the wrong thing, acting purposely upbeat to distract me from my grief instead of acknowledging it. I realize this is simply because fewer of them have had direct experience with death, but it caused some heartache along the way. So, my advice is this:
    Worry less about not knowing the 'right' thing to say, and be sure to say or do something that acknowledges a person's grief. The bereaved won't remember the details, but the gesture. They will, however, remember feeling shut out or ignored, regardless of intention, by those who don't step outside of their own comfort to offer even a token effort.
  17. colombina l from Canada writes: Hello, I'm very sorry for your loss... in that photo you can tell what a special relationship you had with your granddaughter, it must be really difficult for you...
  18. B A from Ottawa, Canada writes: I'm going to have to go with what D M form Etobicoke said on this one. Each situation and person is different. People can grieve in different ways depending on who it is they've lost and where that person was in their life when they passed on. I'd talk to someone differently about the loss of a grandparent than I would about the loss of a child. You also have to know your audience. For instance my family's always been big on humour. When I was at Grad school they called me constantly with updates on how my grandmother's condition was with her final bout of cancer until I got the phone call that she'd passed on. Heck, it still stings. We were all very close to her but we'd seen this coming for some time so we had been able to brace ourselves for it. Still sucked though. Anyway, I got off the plane and there was my dad and my brothers waiting for me with sober faces and a look of dread as I was the last one to arrive and they were expecting me to fall apart then and there. The way I figured it I was supposed to be there for them, though. Bracing myself I walked up to them, gave them each a hug and asked, as straight faced as I could 'So, any change in her condition?' I figured it was the first really good laught they'd had in days. As I said you've got to know your audience before opening your mouth. Otherwise, it doesn't matter what you say. Chances are it'll be the wrong thing.
  19. stand up mimi from Vancouver, Canada writes: M W from Canada - I found the very same thing you did with respect to the gestures that I had once thought cliche. I lost my mom three months ago as well, and was surprised that cards (and yes, flowers) left for us did mean the world. Their presence at the funeral was very much appreciated, too. I always thought the grieving family didn't really notice who was there and who wasn't, but they do. The older relatives seemed to know better how to deal with this event than my younger friends, some of whom said nothing. I don't fault them for it, as they may be unsure of what to say, and unused to having to say it. I agree that some show of support or an acknowledgement is key, although I don't necessarily agree with the author on what should be said or done. Everyone is different. I loved the flowers and the food left on my doorstep, but someone else might not. If you know the person well, make an effort to help them in some way, or to talk to them. If you're an acquaintance, all that's needed is a brief mention that you're sorry. I think sometimes people don't like to bring it up because they think it will remind the person again of the loss, and they don't want to cause undo pain. But that person is already thinking about it day and night, so mentioning it is not 'reminding' them, and would be a welcome acknowledgement of their grief. Maybe if death wasn't such a taboo subject, more people would be able to deal with grieving friends confidently, and minus the really awful - but well-meaning - comments that get blurted out. And Whatevah D - that was an awful thing for people to say to you as a child. Did they not understand that you lost someone, too?
  20. whatevah D from Canada writes: stand up mimi: Yes, it was awful, but I didn't realize how awful until years later when I realized how much I had repressed my grief.

    In any case, to parents of young children who are confronted with the death of a loved one, my advice is to show your grief, talk to them about the death and the loved one; help your child grieve. It is only natural. My mom didn't do any of this. (I don't fault her, she's part of that old 'get on with it' generation). We paid for it later in life though.
  21. Runaway 08 from Wet Vancouver, Canada writes: Whatevah D, your post struck me the hardest of the ones above. Not just about having to be strong - read don't let anyone, including yourself, know how you feel - but the bit about oh well, they were in their 60s.... I am in my mid-60s, and believe me, I still feel like a 'babe' sometimes!! Nobody feels as old as they are. This comments section has really opened up an unhealed wound for me - not to pick at, but to give some fresh air and healing to. Not to go into the details of 30 years ago, but not getting any support, apart from the usual people at the funeral, still hurts in a way. Now I think about it. I wouldn't have minded some flowers, either. One of the most hilarious faux pas I experienced after my mother's sudden death was this. Mom died back east in the middle of the night, and I had to catch the first flight in the morning out of Vancouver. Before leaving, I called a close friend and asked her to let some people I had appointments with know. She did that. A week later, and back here again, I ran into a girl I was supposed to have had lunch with. After the hellos, she said, 'Whatever happened about that lunch we were supposed to have had?' I replied, 'My mother died...' 'Oh, that's right!' she said gaily, 'Well when can we re-schedule?' I don't have any grudges left over from back then, but that one sure stuck out...!! And, come to think of it, we never did re-schedule.
  22. Velma from Burlington from Etobicoke, Canada writes: When my mom passed away suddenly last fall, we found refuge in both memories and humour. At the visitation, we had an array of photos of various stages in her life, each of which prompted a 'do you remember when' from the family.

    Many of the people who knew her from church did make the 'she is in a better place' comment, which did not bother me because that is what she believed. We appreciated the flowers that were sent, as well as the donations. Her brothers and sisters took up a collection to help us with the incidental expenses (a tradition in our family). She had spent the last few years in a nursing home, and whenever we took her out for dinner or whatever, we joked that she was using a 'get out of jail free' card. My brother's girlfriend told me at the funeral home that she was so tempted to put a 'get out of jail free' card in Mom's sweater pocket, but figured some of the rest of the family wouldn't think it appropriate. Mom probably would have laughed just as much as I did.

    Mom herself always submerged her own grief to worry about the rest of her family, we made sure that we let it all out. Then we took comfort in each other, in memories and yes even laughter.
  23. Kiri Simms from Victoria, Canada writes: Stephen, I thank you for your articles and for your generosity with all my heart. My daughter is 26, and has just received her second kidney transplant. You and Alison would understand just how much she has gone through, and has still to face. Your articles have helped many Canadians understand not only kidney disease but chronic illness and death in a way they may not have before. I am truly sorry for the profound loss of your beautiful granddaughter. You and Alison will be in my thoughts in the days and months ahead.
  24. John Berg from Oakville, Canada writes: I learned a long time ago not to worry about what to say or how to say but just go ahead and give your best effort effort - a card, a telphone call, a donation , the proverbial casserole - even flowers (we do plants for the garden) - don't debate to do or not to do, just do something to acknowledge another person's loss - it helps them (and you).
  25. The Wight from Canada writes: My Mom's third cousin came up to give us her condolences when my Mom passed away and casually asked if I was still playing piano. I hadn't played for years, so I let her know that. She was profoundly upset because she had heard from my Mother about my rising career as a concert pianist and felt that I must have had a hard time giving such a wonderful life up. She even asked if I had been injured in some fashion.

    I looked at my siblings next to me with one of those 'looks' and we all started howling at the same time. Poor Generic Third Cousin had no clue, but Mom had this habit of making up stories about her kids that she gave to the people she detested. She felt it was always one upmanship with parents and so made up stories that no one could one up as a kind of protest gesture against the whole noxious pastime.

    To this day, we still ask each other about the wonderful lives we supposedly lead as if they are real.

    And, in a way, Mom actually helped us get through that first day herself.
  26. W R from Tobermory, ON, Canada writes: I agree with most of Mr. Gauer's article, except for one thing: the part about how 'pretending nothing has happened' is insensitive. I agree that for a close friend or relative to pretend nothing has happened is indeed insensitive, but for casual acquaintances, I'm not sure how it is insensitive. As someone who lost a relative recently, the last thing I want is for semi-strangers and co-workers to come up to me and say 'I'm sorry for your loss'. Rather, I'd prefer that my acquaintances carry on as usual (this is why I almost never tell my acquaintances about it), and share my grief only with close friends and relatives. By the golden rule, when the relative of one of my co-workers passes away, I don't go to them and say 'I'm sorry for your loss' either, not out of insensitivity, but rather because that's the way I'd like to be treated in the same situation.

    That being said, I recognize that different people (such as the author of the article) have different thoughts on the matter.
  27. Steve J from Toronto, Canada writes: I lost my mother a year ago May 16th and this article hit the nail on the head. However, the thing I couldn't believe was how many people didn't call my Dad, my brother or I when when my Mom was sick (she only lasted a couple of months after being diagnosed with cancer).

    Sometimes it's just not about what happens after they die, it's about the support a family needs when they are living through something extremely traumatic like a cancer diagnosis at a relatively young age. We were absolutely obliterated - trying to help her, and dealing with our own grief - and very few people had the decency to call during that time.

    So, the words of advice in the article are fairly true from my perspective. But please remember, when someone you know or love is trying to deal with a terminal illness, give them a helping hand. They need it then too.
  28. whatevah D from Canada writes: Runaway 08 from Wet Vancouver, Canada: thanks for your comments. I agree that 60 is a young age. My mom is in her mid-60s and she's having the time of her life. She isn't the least bit 'old'.

    Anyway, sorry to hear that that woman was so callous to you about your mom's death; people blow me away with their insensitivity. Luckily for every one of them there are others who say/do the right thing. What I got the most out of when my dad died were the people who told me how they knew him; one man told me he was his soccer coach from way back and my dad was the best player he ever had. I always found those kinds of comments (what he meant to them) the most memorable.

    It's great to be on this post and talk to others who understand.
  29. whatevah D from Canada writes: Steve J: It's amazing who steps forward to help in times of crisis and who doesn't. Often it isn't the ones you expect who back off. sorry to hear about your loss.
  30. aniphylactic shock troops from Victoria, Canada writes: The Wight: great story.
  31. Robin Hannah from Canada writes: I appreciate the responses to this article. I agree that Mr. Gauer, in his grief, may've dictated too many 'rules', but the discussion is valuable. I recently lost a relative, and I may lose a younger one soon, and I can't help but steel myself for the coming loss of the closest one of all. What I've done is paint little cards, and written a few words of my thoughts. It is difficult to know what to say when someone has died, even when you loved them. And somehow even more difficult when someone is dying. But as everyone has said here, it's not the words, it's the gesture.
  32. Susan Cameron from Calgary, Canada writes: I rather agree with D M from Etobicoke. As for the flowers, I know many people, myself included who think flowers are a wonderful expression when words alone fail to convey the deepest sentiments. Were it my mother that had asked if the kidney could be returned it would have been an expression of her (deeply missed) sense of humour & her way of coping with such tragic news. As for 'I'm sorry for your loss', it sounds like a trite platitude & I would prefer to hear something more original & genuine.
  33. stand up mimi from Canada writes: whatevah D from Canada writes: 'What I got the most out of when my dad died were the people who told me how they knew him; one man told me he was his soccer coach from way back and my dad was the best player he ever had.'

    Those are the best kind of words to hear - that someone knew and valued the person who's gone. A friend of mine talked about how she loved hanging out at my house when we were kids because my mom was nice to her and always made chocolate chip cookies. It's just a snapshot, but it helps to know people remember little things like this and miss the person. If people remember them, it's like they haven't just disappeared. That's why I think it's important to keep talking about them.
  34. Runaway 08 from Wet Vancouver, Canada writes: I agree, Whatevah D. One of the best moments - if there are any at such a time - was a young woman from my mom's office, coming to the house and crying on the front doorstep. I had no idea who she was, but she had worked with my mother for years. That gesture and its sincerity meant more to me than almost anything else. I did want to hear about their friendship... I wanted my mother to have meant something to someone, besides her adult kids who had all moved away.

    The other thing that meant a lot to me was when those inevitable times came when I'd suddenly lose my stiff Upper Canada lip and burst into tears. Quite a few people either hugged me ,if they knew me well enough, or waited quietly, til I pulled myself together.

    Being at home again with both my sisters was great, too! We all piled into her bed for the night and told each other stories that made us howl! Mother would have rolled over in her grave... we probably said so, too. She never quite 'got' us, but she did appreciate our off-beat sense of humour.
  35. Linda Marsh from Kamloops, Canada writes: My eldest son passed away last spring. He was 17 years old. He never failed to make me smile. He always seemed to know when I was down and would rest his chin on my head (he was quite tall). My world fell apart in a single hour. It's been close to a year now, but every day, multiple times a day, I am devasted that he is here no more. I cannot believe that I will never see that gorgeous smile and goofy sense of humour that always made me laugh. I am tormented that I will never be able to kiss and hug him again. People that were close to us suddenly shunned us following his passing. Other people who were not that close stepped up to the plate and were incredibly supportive and loving. It was a real eye opener. But within two weeks of Chris's passing, no was there for us at all. We heard the gauntlet of insensitive things, such as, 'he's in a better place', 'snap out of it already!', 'things happen for a reason', etc. There were worse ones, but I've chosen not to remember or repeat them. They hurt too much. I loved my son with all my heart and would've given my life for his in an instant, but unfortunately, it was not my choosing. So, I live with and cherish his beautiful memories day to day. There may be a right and wrong way to approach someone's passing, but the most important thing, in my opinion, is to reach out to the people in mourning and just let them know that you're thinking of them. That means everything.
  36. C Simmons from Oakville, Canada writes: Linda Marsh.. I agree with everything you wrote. My experience has been much the same.

    I lost my 16 year old son Drew 7 weeks ago. He had been on life support for 9 days after a devastating head injury.
    The people that did things for us were and are amazing. The food that was left on the porch, the cards and stories about my son from people I barely knew. The kind friend who mowed my lawn, the close friend that helped clean my house. The gift certificates for all kinds of services and much more. It was all so appreciated and never forgotten.
    Yes, there were some pretty insensitive things said but for the most part, people mean well. They are just very uncomfortable with death and don't realize that nothing can be said to make it better.
    I'm sorry for your loss is enough.

    Just being there for someone when they are ready is the best you can do.

    Crystal Simmons
    Mother of Drew Hildebrand
  37. Bobbi Zahra from Halifax, Canada writes: True enough - many DON'T know what to do or say about death, and as we learned during both my parents' protracted illnesses, many don't know how to be present to a family before a death. While I don't think that Mr. Gauer's article was intended to be RULES, as suggested by some posters, I do believe that they are very good guidelines, which of course would be moderated somewhat based upon your degree of relationship with the person who has died. My contribution to the thread about the odd things that people say when someone has died... when my father died in 1990, there was an open casket at the funeral home (ugh, really - I did not want to see him dead at all...), and many of his friends and acquaintances in our small town came to pay their respects. Well, two of these gentlemen (in their 70s) were standing beside the casket, nodding at each other, sombre expressions on their faces. 'Well,' said one, 'He looks some good, doesn't he?' 'Yep, looks really good,' replied the other... and somehow, I did not scream what I was thinking, which was, 'Yeah, he does look good, for a dead guy!' I knew that they were there because they cared about my father, and he had been ill for such a long time that it WAS good, in a certain way, to see his face looking relaxed, an unfurrowed brow...
  38. whatevah D from Canada writes: Linda Marsh and C Simmons: My heart goes out to both of you. And Linda, what you say is true. While there is a lot of support in those first couple of weeks, it often disappears later. Meanwhile, you are at home grieving for years... I found this when my dad died when I was a child. You have to live with your grief every day, while others go on with their lives. I really struggled with that. I wish you both all the best.
  39. Paul Aparycki from st. jean sur richelieuur richelieu, Canada writes: I appreciated the article, though I don't agree with all of it, but reading it and some of the commentary (much of it ill-informed . . . through lack of experience . . . lucky you), I do think that as a rule friends, relatives, etc should KEEP THEIR MOUTH SHUT, be there for the person(s), but SHUT UP. Take them for coffee, lunch, as someone suggested cut the lawn, maybe do shopping . . . but be there. If they need to cry for hours, make sure your shoulder is available, if they need to punch, scrape or scream in anger, be the punching bag. None of us know how to handle death properly, because we want to ignore it and pretend it won't happen . . . to us. So when someone nearby dies it is an alarm bell that you too are perhaps not too far away. Pathetic phrases of the ilk "they are in a better place" are an insult and should never be uttered. They are the sign of a jackass. I have been in the same place as the author. In '87, early one April morning (after having slept on the waiting room couch of I.U. for 11 days), I was told that my daughter finally looked like she would pull through. Within a couple of hours things had gone very, very wrong and I had her 3 year old body quietly, quickly, turning to cold stone in my arms. It was not a good day. Only two people that day had the wherewithal to sit beside me, my then wife, and be a pillow, a sounding board, but nothing more . . . they are two of the finest people I have ever had the honour of knowing. Everyone else was full of stupid platitudes that quite frankly, are designed to exonerate them from their inability to cope . . . like I said . . . JUST SHUT UP, and BE THERE.
  40. whatevah D from Canada writes: Paul: most people here are speaking about their own personal losses, so I'm not sure I would call their comments ill-informed. I do know that people grieve very differently and appreciate different comments. Even the terrible "they're in a better place" or "they're in peace now" could be considered ok to someone who believes in an afterlife. Of course, you'd only say it if you really truly know the person and their beliefs.
  41. Linda Marsh from Kamloops, Canada writes: Crystal Simmons,
    I am so very sorry for your loss. Although no two people are alike, I honestly believe I know how you feel. I've been debating what to write, so I'll just speak from my heart. In two weeks, it will be the one year anniversary of my son, Chris's, death. Unfortunately, it also falls on my husband's birthday. We contemplated all sorts of things we could do to support each other and keep us busy and try to enjoy the day - especially for my husband's sake. We decided to visit the wildlife park, go hiking, then go to a swanky restaurant for dinner. All the things Chris loved! I know from personal experience, that it really didn't make me feel better to hear that the pain would eventually lessen a bit in time, but I have to agree it's true. I still have a good solid cry and I think about Chris day and night, but it's more of the good memories now that help me through it. I honestly hope this is true for you. Your memories of Drew are a keepsake that will help you through the darkest days and nights. I wish you much love and support, Crystal. Take good care of yourself.
  42. Paul Aparycki from st. jean sur richelieuur richelieu, Canada writes: whatevah D; Your point is well taken, BUT, how well do you really know your friend? your best friend? your wife/husband/lover?. When it comes to an event like death, I would be ready to argue that you probably don't know them at all. We all have our deepest darkest secrets from even those closest to us . . . the concept of yes we are here having fun today, and kick the bucket tomorrow, is something NO ONE, not even real cold-hearted rational me, likes to address, so we do fluff it up with stupid commentary, stupid interpretation . . . and if not too careful, out come the "hallmark" sympathies. They help no one except for the idiot who likes to think they are saying something of import . . . they should think long and hard (maybe at least ten seconds) before they open their mouth. I have lost much in my life and often people will think I am being a little too cool. I am not. I simply have respect for those who have gone, for those who are having a hard time with it (I AM there for them), and for the misery that is still to come . . . the memory of those gone is mine, I guard it with a passion, but it is mine, not anyone else's. There is nothing wrong with grieving, but get one thing straight, grieving is selfishness . . . nothing more. Whoever died is gone, they don't know any more, and don't care . . . they can't can they? . . . grieving is all about you, nothing else. Go ahead and do it . . . I did, but it shouldn't be a business, nor a career.
  43. S weetie from Canada writes: I'm with Cab: For pete's sake just leave me alone. I'm not going to appreciate your cliched "so sorry for your loss". Huh!? You didn't know her/him, you don't know me, you don't know if it WAS a loss. Funeral directors give me the creeps, and so do people who try to copy their behaviour.

    If 'my loss' was ill for sometime before he/she died and I was the caregiver, that's when you might have helped.

    If you knew the person and have a memory, or a photo, share it, in writing.

    If you're my boss, give me time off; otherwise, give me your cell number and sincerely offer to do what I ask if and when I call.
  44. erin rayfield from Canada writes: "Don't tell the grieving person that the deceased is "in a better place," "reunited with God" or "up in heaven where things are great," unless you're sure you're on the same religious wavelength."

    I think this is the best piece of advice that came from this column. My dad died when i was 19 and my mother when i was 25 and these phrases were the bain of my existance. I am not a religious person so not only did it not make me feel better, but it made me feel that they though i wasnt a good enough daughter since it was better for them to be dead than with me.

    Everyone should be careful not to say things to make people feel worse. If you dont know what to say, don't say anything or just say im sorry and im here for you if you need anything.

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