Friday 3 June 2011

How You Can Help Me

I didn't actually write this, but it is totally relevant and I thought I would share. Not sure of the original source as I found it in a forum.I think its completely true for anyone who is grieving, it really highlights how people should behave and feel around someone if they know they are grieving. I don't want to tell people how to act, but this is really good advice.


HOW YOU CAN HELP ME 

Please talk about my loved one, even though he is gone. It is more comforting to cry than to pretend that he never existed. I need to talk about him, and I need to do it over and over.

Be patient with my agitation. Nothing feels secure in my world. Get comfortable with my crying. Sadness hits me in waves, and I never know when my tears may flow. Just sit with me in silence and hold my hand.

Don't abandon me with the excuse that you don't want to upset me. You can't catch my grief. My world is painful, and when you are too afraid to call me or visit or say anything, you isolate me at a time when I most need to be cared about. If you don't know what to say, just come over, give me a hug or touch my arm, and gently say, "I'm sorry." You can even say, "I just don't know what to say, but I care, and want you to know that."

Just because I look good does not mean that I feel good. Ask me how I feel only if you really have time to find out. I am not strong. I'm just numb. When you tell me I am strong, I feel that you don't see me. Because I can look the part doesn't mean I feel the part, or if I laugh I am happy I remember how to make the sounds, it doesn't mean I feel them. 


I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I'm not sick. I'm grieving and that's different. My grieving may only begin 6 months after my loved one's death. Don't think that I will be over it in a year. For I am not only grieving his death, but also the person I was when I was with him, the life that we shared, the plans we had for watching our children and grandchildren grow, the places we will never get to go together, and the hopes and dreams that will never come true. My whole world has crumbled and I will never be the same.

I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget my loved one and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life and love into the rest of my life. He is a part of me and always will be, and sometimes I will remember him with joy and other times with a tear. Both are okay.

I don't have to accept the death. Yes, I have to understand that it has happened and it is real, but there are some things in life that are just not acceptable.

When you tell me what I should be doing, then I feel even more lost and alone. I feel badly enough that my loved one is dead, so please don't make it worse by telling me I'm not doing this right.

Please don't tell me I can find someone else or that I need to start dating again. I'm not ready. And maybe I don't want to. Maybe never will. And besides, what makes you think people are replaceable? They aren't. 

I don't even understand what you mean when you say, "You've got to get on with your life." My life is going on, I've been forced to take on many new responsibilities and roles. It may not look the way you think it should. This will take time and I will never be my old self again. So please, just love me as I am today, and know that with your love and support, the joy will slowly return to my life. But I will never forget and there will always be times that I cry.

I need to know that you care about me. I need to feel your touch, your hugs. I need you just to be with me, and I need to be with you. I need to know you believe in me and in my ability to get through my grief in my own way, and in my own time.

Please don't say, "Call me if you need anything." I'll never call you because I have no idea what I need. Trying to figure out what you could do for me takes more energy than I have. So, in advance, let me give you some ideas:

(a) Bring food or a dvd over to watch together.
(b) Send me a card on special holidays, his birthday, and the anniversary of his death, and be sure to mention his name. You can't make me cry. The tears are here and I will love you for giving me the opportunity to shed them because someone cared enough about me to reach out on this difficult day.
(c) Ask me more than once to join you at a shopping or a film or lunch or dinner. I may say no at first or even for a while, but please don't give up on me 
because somewhere down the line, I may be ready, and if you've given up then I really will be alone.
(d) Understand how difficult it is for me to be surrounded by couples, to walk into events alone, to go home alone, to feel out of place in the same situations where I used to feel so comfortable. You can be the loneliest person in a crowded room. 

Please don't judge me now - or think that I'm behaving strangely. Remember I'm grieving. I may even be in shock. I am afraid. I may feel deep rage. I may even feel guilty. But above all, I hurt. I'm experiencing a pain unlike any I've ever felt before and one that can't be imagined by anyone who has not walked in my shoes.

Don't worry if you think I'm getting better and then suddenly I seem to slip backward. Grief makes me behave this way at times. And please don't tell me you know how I feel, or that it's time for me to get on with my life. What I need now is time to grieve.


Most of all thank you for being my friend. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for caring. Thank you for helping, for understanding. Thank you for praying for me.

And remember in the days or years ahead, after your loss - when you need me as I have needed you - I will understand. And then I will come and be with you. 

3 comments:

  1. Hi,

    Thanks for this post (yes I know it is not your own writing :-). I lost my wife to a brain tumour last month and it is exactly how I feel.

    I am really touched by your blog and your posts are really thoughtful. My wife was only 27 when she died and doing a PhD at Warwick after having done a BSc and MSc there as well. (well done on your exams btw!)

    I kept a blog from day 1 of her illness in 2005 (http://astrocytoma.co.uk) and on my own personal blog, I write about how I am coping these days (http://www.bunnyfactor10.com).

    We could meet up some day if you like (I am actually at Warwick Uni today to scatter a tiny bit of my wife's ashes there). Take care.

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  2. Made me cry - my 23 year old daughter lost her partner in a car crash 4 weeks ago and I have been struggling with how to help. Seems I have been doing the right things so far. Hard being a mum and knowing that I can't fix this

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  3. Dear Anonymous commentor,

    feel free to tell your daughter about me, if she would like someone to talk to - i know it helps to have someone who knows how it feels to lost the person you love.

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