Grieving "Right"
About grief myths, the worst is when those who believe the myths tell others they aren't "grieving right" and warn that it'll come back to bite them.
The best popular book on grief is by George A Bonanno, The Other Side of Sadness: What the New Science of Bereavement Tells Us About Life After Loss. Here's a show I did with him.
I write about grieving and dating again after the death of a partner in "Good Manners for Nice People Who Sometimes Say F*ck." And here's my column on the subject.
I think one of the most clueless things I've ever heard anyone say was said to my friend, after she'd lost her father.
Context: This was said to my friend as a bunch of us were cooking some food for the wake. My friend was making one of her dad's favorite dishes, something only she could get exactly right.
"Wow. You're so calm. I haven't even seen you cry. I mean, when my grandpa died, I couldn't STOP crying. I miss him every day, and I still cry, like, once a week, and it's been five years. If MY dad had just died... I mean, I don't think I'd be able to be standing here cooking. I'd be sobbing alone in my room. I mean, have you really allowed yourself to just GRIEVE yet?"
sofar at July 21, 2014 10:06 AM
Horrible.
Bonanno makes the point in his (terrific) book that we are resilient -- that resilience is the norm, in fact -- but that we don't always understand this because the pathologically grieving (those who can't stop after, oh, a year) are the ones therapists see and the ones who get written about.
Amy Alkon at July 21, 2014 10:12 AM
I think one of the big myths here is that grief will allow you to actually get over losing a loved one.
You never get over it. You just learn to live with it.
What is it going to be next with these people? If you don't throw yourself on a big funeral pyre, with your departed loved one, you don't "miss" them enough?
Isab at July 21, 2014 12:26 PM
Those who cannot manage their own lives are invariably the ones who want to manage the lives of others.
MarkD at July 21, 2014 12:37 PM
I think one of the most clueless things I've ever heard anyone say was said to my friend, after she'd lost her father.
That's what happens when people think they have to say something deep or meaningful.
There's an advantage to being a quiet, shy introvert: I'm comfortable sitting with someone and saying absolutely nothing. Because occasionally, that's what's called for. Maybe a pat on the shoulder.
I R A Darth Aggie at July 21, 2014 12:43 PM
we are resilient -- that resilience is the norm, in fact -- but that we don't always understand this because the pathologically grieving (those who can't stop after, oh, a year) are the ones therapists see and the ones who get written about.
Interesting. I hadn't thought of it that way, but, in my experience, that's true. And there are some people out there who seem to think that, by not wailing and posting sad poems on Facebook, that you're not honoring the dead enough.
My boyfriend's parents are from a part of the world, where, after a death of a close family member, you open your house to a parade of visitors. Ostensibly it's a nice tradition, as they're supposed to come over, clean your house, bring you a meal and talk about memories of your loved one. But my boyfriend's mother HATES it because you also get a lot of old gossipy ladies who feel entitled to see you cry and just lose yourself in grief. If you don't, this disappoints them, and they'll gossip about how you "couldn't even shed one tear for" the deceased. She refused to take visitors after her brother died and instead asked everyone to just come over for prayers one night, so she could deal with visitors on her own terms. She caught so much flack for that.
sofar at July 21, 2014 12:44 PM
That's what happens when people think they have to say something deep or meaningful.
Definitely. The ONLY THINGS YOU SAY are "I am so sorry" or "I can't even imagine what you're going through" or "here is some food I made you."
This isn't a time for poignant line that you think is *just the right thing* to say. Because there's nothing that can cut through the pain of losing a loved one.
sofar at July 21, 2014 12:56 PM
Anyone who saw me after my mom died would probably think I wasn't grieving. What happened to me was: 1) I couldn't sleep - was downing Ambien like peanuts. and 2) I had a really short fuse. Snapped at people a lot. I didn't have any trouble accepting that she was dead, or functioning in spite of the grief. I'm not saying it was a picnic, but I'm also not saying that things would have been any better if I'd cried for a month.
farmer Joe at July 21, 2014 2:14 PM
My mom died just over seven months ago. The thing I learned most from the experience is that there is no "right" way to grieve.
The other thing I've learned is that people expect you to get over it rather quickly. I mean, everyone says you never REALLY get over it, but the people in my life, for the most part, seem to think it's okay if I miss mom as long as I don't say anything about it.
If I get a little teary-eyed because a coworker is talking about how great it was that her mom was able to come and help after her baby was born, then I'M the asshole. Or when I was thoroughly bummed on Mother's Day, especially when people would ask what I was doing for my mom because they'd forgotten mom died five months previous.
The Original Kit at July 21, 2014 3:22 PM
I'm so sorry TOK, that's just awful. It would be difficult to have grace with people during this time. Please know that most folks are trying, even if they stumble and say the wrong stuff right now. My deepest condolences.
gooseegg at July 21, 2014 3:59 PM
Here's one I've heard more than once the first day back at work following the death of a parent and later, a spouse. "Are you 'back' yet?" Which I took to mean, can I be at work and not get teary eyed. The first week back a work for me following a big loss was tough.
justme at July 21, 2014 6:27 PM
What works to get people to acceptance, as long as it doesn't involve random acts of violence or something, is fine.
I had a loss in my family on September 12 of last year. When I was around four, my parents divorced. Daddy Dearest had a bit of a drinking problem and contributed nothing to our upbringing. And my mother had a large brood of children that was impossible to support by herself.
Fortunately, when I was seven she met Grace, an affluent widow who hired my mother as a personal secretary. And we were able to stay afloat, thanks to Grace.
I have my suspicions that the relationship between my mother and Grace wasn't strictly employer/employee, but that was none of my business so I never asked.
Grace was a family member, like a second mother to me. I went to her as much as my mother when I needed something.
Two summers ago, she was complaining of pain in her back. She assumed it had something to do with golf swing. Then last summer, she learned she had advanced lung cancer, despite having quit smoking 35 years earlier.
If you ever saw Grace and my mother together, you would bet dollars to doughnuts my mother would have passed on first. They were only two months apart in age, but Grace remained active, ate healthy, took her vitamins, did her exercises to delay the onset of osteoporosis which her mother had had. My mother, by contrast, is far less active, and doesn't take very good care of herself, and regrettably, it shows. However, she's still in good shape for a woman who's pushing 90.
In fact, when Grace was diagnosed, the first thing she said to my mother was, "You were supposed to go first."
Grace, when she saw what the care was going to be like, made up her mind to forgo the chemotherapy and radiation, and let nature take its course. When I got the call that she had died, I was sitting at my kitchen table, talking to a friend.
I raised my glass and said, "Good-bye, Grace. Thank you very much for everything you did for us. Someday I will catch up to you, but not today."
And that was my entire mourning process.
Patrick at July 21, 2014 7:00 PM
By the way, I like how you call it the "Grief Myths." You could create a whole pantheon of Grief Mythology.
You could also address the myth of the five stages of grief by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, who was talking only about those who are themselves dying and go through several stages before reaching acceptance.
Patrick at July 21, 2014 9:06 PM
If I could figure out how to put one of those checkmarks Crid uses, here, I would.
flbeachmom at July 22, 2014 5:43 AM
"Those who cannot manage their own lives are invariably the ones who want to manage the lives of others."
This. Exactly.
Cousin Dave at July 22, 2014 7:59 AM
Other people's grief can be a really uncomfortable thing to be near. Especially when it lingers a very long time.
LauraGr at July 22, 2014 11:19 AM
Other people's grief can be a really uncomfortable thing to be near. Especially when it lingers a very long time.
Posted by: LauraGr at July 22, 2014 11:19 AM
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Exactly. That's the flip side. That is, some grieving people actually expect others to coddle them and their grief forever, a la Queen Victoria, which makes them less and less popular.
Example, from "Miss Manners' Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior":
(on the subject of staying home when you're miserable or grouchy and the importance of putting on a happy face when you choose to accept invitations and go out)
"The answer to 'How are you?' is not 'Uhhh' or 'How should I be?' It is not the answer that a gentleman of Miss Manners' acquaintance received when he posed the polite question to an elderly guest at his wedding, and was told, 'Oh, not so good since Bill died.' Bill had died eight years previously."
lenona at July 23, 2014 11:21 AM
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