Layered with Grief and Understanding

 Layered with Grief and Understanding

Recently fellow storytellers and I learned of the traumatic brain injury of the youngest son of one of our guild members. Mom, Dad and family waited by the hospital bedside of their son and brother who was hooked up to life support. Would his condition get better or worsen? The medical staff offered little hope.

Naturally each person of our guild responded with different words. All kind and thoughtful, and many offered to pray.

The son’s condition, and that of his family, weighed on my spirit all week. I wanted to do more, but prayer was bigger than anything any of us could do. Barb, fellow storyteller, was feeling that way too and was willing to engage in a prayer session via Zoom.

We learned of the plan for organ donation, according to their son’s wishes. A member of our congregation assured me that the Trillium Foundation—that oversees donations and connections to the family—would be with them along the way. I shared that message with my friend, the mom in this family.

On Monday life-giving organs—liver and kidneys—were transplanted into matching recipients. After the organs were secured, the family could make funeral arrangements.

What do you say to people going through this kind of trauma? How do you support them best?

When I worked as one of six authors on the manuscript for Good Grief People, we included a list of positive actions for readers to take into consideration with friends or family they want to support. Since then I’ve learned more—not to ask a grieving family to make decisions. Offer assistance, but don’t ask what they need.

“I don’t know your grief, but I’m here to listen.” As gently as possible and at the right time. The family may wish to engage in grief counselling or may prefer to talk with someone who’s gone through a similar situation. On their own time. Grief ought not to be rushed through.

I sent two private messages to my friend during this time about people praying. My friend thanked me. Having a faith in God, she understands about prayer.

At this time, showing up for the visitation or funeral will be a way of caring. It may be that my presence is all she needs right now. And perhaps a pot of soup in the next week as well.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Carolyn Wilker is an author, editor and storyteller in southwestern Ontario.

 https://www.carolynwilker.ca/

 

Anchors in Grief—Carolyn R. Wilker

Recently I marked the date of my friend’s birthday, September 2^nd, though she died eight months ago. I posted one of my favourite photos of her on my Facebook page. 

Her own facebook page is still up and there was a reminder of her birthday— which I could never forget. And her voice is still on their home answering machine. It wrings at the heart. It’s hard when a friend dies. This was a friend I've known since early childhood.

On my Facebook page that day, I received many virtual hugs from others who have known grief too, and those were much appreciated. Yet not all reactions to grief are similar.

Some say, “Keep busy.” Others say, “Move on,” as if the loss were trivial. And while I know that one must keep putting one foot in front of another, I recognize that grief is something that one has to deal with. Grief is hard work. I’ve seen friends struggle with the death of a baby and another who is grieving the death of her husband who was just as much a friend. I will offer a hug and a listening ear, knowing this is a difficult time and a grief I do not know.

 Years ago, Belinda, a fellow writer, understanding how it felt to lose a friend, told me about a little book titled, When a Friend Dies, and suddenly I need it again. On one page of that book, Harold Ivan Smith writes, “Give yourself permission to grieve for your friend.”

In the book the writer recognizes that a friend is the one who bakes cookies for the bereaved family. She may also be the one to listen and support them during the friend’s illness, death and afterwards, but she is rarely the one consoled at losing a friend. Although at visitation just over a year ago, on the death of another friend, Annie, her husband kept saying to me, “You were a good friend.” I was honoured at his words— warm, appreciative and kind. And I recognized his different grief at losing his wife.

An Anchor

A sailor puts down an anchor to keep the boat from drifting away when it is necessary to stay in one place. An anchor might also be the person we love who has helped us in those places where we must stay awhile, and they help when the boat moves on too. Providing stability, praying perhaps when there are rough waters ahead. These friends—Gayleen, Annie and Barbara—have held that place for me.

Yet, as long as the process goes on— and it can be a long time—there is another anchor. Perhaps one of the most comforting verses from the Bible is James 14:2-3, “In my father’s house are many mansions… I go to prepare a place for you.” Jesus knew grief; he wept for his friend Lazarus, and so he understands and cares how we feel.

          Grief comes and goes. Some days are harder than others. I am sad because I am separated from one I care about, and so I do what I can to alleviate that sadness that goes with loss. I write about my grief, I think about her, and I recognize the pain. As I pray for my friend’s family, I can also pray that God would comfort me in my grieving.

And now, months later, perhaps my friend is looking down and wondering how we’re doing. God will tell her, “Worry no more. Be at peace.”

Resources for Grief:

When Your Friend Dies, Harold Ivan Smith, Augsburg, 2002.

Winter Grief, Summer Grace: Returning to Life after a Loved One Dies, James E. Miller, 1995.

Carolyn R. Wilker, editor, storyteller and author of Once Upon a Sandbox

 www.carolynwilker.ca