Helping the Grieving, Part 1

I've decided that instead of writing about grieving, I'll write about something much more useful: how to help someone grieve. This will be a process, and there's a lot to cover, so I'll probably do it in several posts.

First let me say that these are things that no one knows until they actually go through the grief process. Before Paul died, I never did this right. So, if you've done something that's the opposite of what I say, don't sweat it. I've done a million things wrong (and still do, actually, cuz old habits are hard to break). Plus, these are just MY thoughts on the subject. Everyone is different, and I could be wrong (but I doubt it!)

In fact, I'd love to hear from other Moms on this subject (Marlo, Abra, Karen, Others??). If you agree or maybe have a different perspective, then please comment.

So, with that said, here goes:

My first and greatest rule is: PLEASE TAKE EVERY OPPORTUNITY TO TALK ABOUT THE PERSON BEING GRIEVED FOR (would that be the grievee?? not sure, but you know what I mean). One of the best things a person can do for me is to talk about Paul. Even if it's a story I've heard a million times, I will still enjoy hearing it again. My dad is great about this. He has a cajillion hilarious Paul stories, and he never tires of telling them. When I can remember Paul with someone, I am blessed. Sometimes someone will share their favorite memory of Paul with me, and I beam. Or sometimes someone will tell me a story about Paul that I never knew (something that happened when I wasn't around). Even when it is something mundane and unremarkable, just knowing something new about him is wonderful.

For some reason, we adults have difficulty with this one, but kids are great. They don't have whatever it is we have that makes us feel awkward about grief. One of my favorite memories after Paul's funeral is of my friend's daughter, Emily (who was about 4 years old at the time). I was having lunch with their whole family, and we were catching up on things. This was the first time I had seen them since the funeral, and Emily was full of questions. She interrupted our adult conversation (probably about where we were going for summer vacation or if they had eaten at the newest restaurant in town) and asked, "Where was Paul when he died?" An appropriate question, I thought, for a young mind trying to wrap her head around the actual process of dying. I explained to her that since Paul was in some pain before he died and needed to get medicine very frequently in the middle of the night, he was in my and Terrill's bed - right in the middle. She seemed satisfied with that answer, her parents only slightly uncomfortable, and we continued on with our adult conversation. Several minutes later she chimed in again: "What was Paul wearing when he died?" I couldn't help but laugh, and I had to tell her that no one - not one single person - had ever asked me that before. At this point, Mom's discomfort level was rising - not sure if she should reprimand little Emily or not. I assured her this was a question that I would love to answer. I told Emily that because Paul hurt a lot, we didn't change his clothes at night. He didn't get into his pajamas - we just let him sleep in whatever he wore that day. He was wearing his very favorite T-shirt when he died (one that was on his back if it wasn't in the dirty clothes). It was a red shirt with black letters that said: "It's My Brother's Fault". Well, with that, she and her two older brothers almost fell out of their chairs laughing, which made all the adults crack up, too. Paul making us laugh... What could be more healing to a grieving mother? Thank you, Emily. Thank you for caring what Paul was wearing when he died, and thank you for giving me the chance to tell you.

See, I don't get to hold Paul, kiss him, or hear his sweet voice. All I get to do is remember him and talk about him. So, when you allow me to do that, it is like a warm cloth on an aching joint. Is there a possibility that I might cry when I speak of my precious boy? Absolutely. But that's OK. Which brings me to Leigh's Grief Rule #2...

For the next post.