Dear Jerry,
Oh my… I’m so sorry. I meant to write this letter last week but the time just got away on me. I know that’s not a great excuse but it’s the only one I have. As both your friend and a grief counsellor, I promised you I’d write out some thoughts every week on how to help your mom since your dad died and I dropped the ball — already! Please accept my apologies.
Just writing those few sentences made me think of something someone said to me recently. She’s a now-retired grief counsellor, a mentor of mine. She quoted one of her former clients who had said, “Everyone is just going on with their lives. Don’t they know that something awful has happened? My husband has DIED.”
I think everyone who has had someone dear to them die struggles with the fact that life goes on pretty much as normal after the funeral for everyone else except for them. Except for those closest to the deceased. Think of it like an archery target. Your mom is the bulls-eye. You and your sister are in the next ring. Then, your aunt and uncles, and perhaps some of your dad’s closest friends. Everyone else is outside of the target. Those in the outer circles and outside of the target care, but their lives don’t change much if at all.
Your dad’s death impacted your mom the most — her life changed significantly and dramatically and will continue to change. Even the simplest of things are different. She now drinks her morning coffee alone and has to be the one to remember to lock the doors at night. Mind you, she made some of those adjustments while he was in the hospital but at that point, she was still hoping he’d come home. You’re in the next circle and so you’ve had some impact — you can’t phone him for advice any more — but I’m sure you’ve already noticed that you are able to go on with your life on a fairly normal basis. You get up, have breakfast, and head off to work just as you did a month ago.
So what to do for Mom? Really, what she needs most is for you (and others, of course) to acknowledge how her life changed. I often say that humans can go through incredibly difficult times and be okay if someone just says, “Wow, this must be so hard for you.” And notice and comment on something specific that appears hard. It seems that when we hear that, from someone who is at least trying to understand, we can straighten our shoulders and say to ourselves, “yes, but I’m going to make it.”.
I challenge you then, to notice something that’s hard for your mom and simply say that out loud to her. (We therapists like to use the word reflect. Reflect what you see back to her.) Watch her reaction. Does she ‘straighten’ or does she crumple? Knowing your mom, I’m guessing the former. Am I right? Does her resilience show when you do that?
Having just written what TO say, I’ll swing the other direction and write about what NOT TO say.
Whatever you do, Jerry, DO NOT EVER say anything along the line of “Dad would hate it…”. As in “Dad would hate it that you’re so sad. He’s in a better place and would want you to be happy for him.” All that does is make your mom feel guilty for grieving. And she doesn’t need guilt! Or, in the future, don’t say “Don’t sell the house. Dad wouldn’t want you to.”. Don’t say anything at all that sounds like you’ve got an inside track on what your Dad would want your Mom to do, know, or be. I talked to your mom last night — which reminded me of my promise to write you — and she said that one of her friends had said something similar about her sadness. Not helpful!
Rereading what I’ve written sounds a little harsh and even preachy, but I have heard over and over again that there are people who do and say exactly that. “Don’t be sad. Dan (or whoever the person is grieving) would want you to be happy.” Read that aloud in a pseudo-caring voice and I think you’ll understand why that kind of caring just makes me crazy!
As an aside, I’m just as adamant about death-bed promises. I remember a lady from back home who promised her ill husband that she’d never sell their house. She agonized over this when her own health became fragile and she couldn’t manage the house alone. I remember thinking at the time, “that’s just not fair”. Her late husband, who was (unlike your dad) controlling when he was alive, continued to control her and make her life difficult.
As I said last time, your mom needs to feel all the emotion connected to your dad’s death but also, in small increments at first, learn to live a life without him. She may still take into consideration what he liked or disliked, what he wished or longed for, but she has to make decisions that work for her not for him. And she is entitled to her sadness. He was, after all, the love of her life. Without him there would be no You.
I’ll leave it there for today. I PROMISE I’ll write more soon.
Take care of yourself as well — this has been hard so, as I often say to clients, “Treat yourself as you’d treat a very dear friend”.
Your friend,
Ruth
P.S. Remember last time I said that if you see something that needs doing, JUST DO IT? Did you? (Being a little bossy here, I know.)
Disclaimer: Jerry, his sister, and his parents are fictional, of course, but I hope by helping them, I can also help you (and/or your family.)
Photo Credit: Green Chameleon on Unsplash
