For the Grieving and their friends

     After the loss of my first husband, Jake, at a very young age, it has sometimes felt as if I am the "resident expert" on grief and loss amongst my circle of influence. The question of how to deal with a grieving friend or relative has come to me on more than one occasion over the last year and half. Although I by no means consider myself an expert on the matter, I can pass along some things that  have helped me in the journey. I will first address my precious widowed sisters, and then you lovely folks who though not grieving yourselves, are perhaps seeking some counsel on how to help a grieving friend. 

To the New Widow: 

     Precious sisters, I know this is not the sort of club or sisterhood you ever want to be initiated into. But here you are, all the same. Perhaps you're searching for comfort right now. Perhaps answers. Assuredly you are experiencing deep pain, one that I would not wish on anyone,but one that I'm grateful for nonetheless. I pray that the questions and pain and unquenchable longings you are experiencing will turn you to the satisfying arms of GOD. 
     Early on in my journey of grief, I came across an article by Elisabeth Elliot 
(http://www.elisabethelliot.org/newsletters/2003-05-06.pdf), which shares the above title of this section. Perhaps the biggest thing her words communicated to me at the time was that I was not alone, I was not crazy, and someone, somewhere out there had felt the same sort of things that I was feeling. You are not alone either; there are sisters who have felt a similar pain, and  if you're in Christ, there's a Savior who walks through all of your pain with you. 
I have copied Elisabeth's article below:

Dearest one:

I know the proportion of that pain, and there is no minimizing it here and now. I also know the truth of 2 Corinthians 4:17, “These little troubles (which are really so transitory) are winning for us a permanent, glorious and solid reward out of all proportion to our pain.” The bigger our pain now, the bigger that “weight of glory” will be. It’s mysterious, it’s unimaginable, but it’s going to be, and for that we give thanks. You are alone now. You go to bed alone, you are having to learn to say “I” instead of “we,” you find yourself catching your breath as you turn to say something to the man who isn’t there, you put off a decision until he gets home to help you make it, and then you know, with a pang, that you’ll have to make it by yourself. The children come with needs, needs that Daddy could meet, but Daddy won’t be there—today or tomorrow, or ever again, so there you are. You open a drawer, and you find a book his hands have handled, you come across his handwriting (so very personal a sign of the man), you see his shoes with the shape of his feet which you know so well, and the sting of the arrow in your heart is not missed by Him who loves us as no one else ever has. He puts those tears into His bottle, for He gave you the love that brings those tears and He made you so you could cry, and you cast it all on the Rock that never moves. You find everything else shaken, tottering, the mountains moved into the midst of the sea, the earth “roaring, ”  the  things  that seemed changeless all changed now, except for the Rock. He seems sometimes a very absent help in time of trouble, but He’s there. Be still, know that He’s still God, wait for Him. I know how your memory goes over every inch of his body, for you loved every inch of it, and you remember just how it felt and the smell of him and the sound of his breathing and his voice and the taste of him, and each day you find it a little bit harder to remember just  exactly how it was and you know you have forgotten some of it, and this, too, is pain. You don’t want anybody telling you that “time heals all things,” for you don’t in the least want to forget, not for a second. People will be very kind for quite a long time. They will remember, and their hearts will go out to you and they will be utterly at a loss to know how to look at you, what to say, how to keep you from talking about your husband. They don’t know how to cope with the emotion in themselves so they simply cannot imagine how you cope. They are not practiced in being open and honest with their true emotions, and at a time like this they are at  a loss  to know how to fake, although they feel that faking is what they ought to do. So you have to accept that and try to believe that all they want is to be kind, though they blunder at it most touchingly. But after a while they will not remember much anymore, or they will assume you’ve “gotten over it,” and you will become a worse threat to them because they won’t know how in the world to fit you into their world. The couples who were your good friends will want to do things for you, but they won’t know how to do things with you, and finally, although they would hardly admit this to themselves, you become a burden, a nuisance, and a dangerous person to have around  susceptible husbands... You are a widow, a social misfit, not single, not married. You’ll find it hard, I think, to relate to single women again, but you can’t expect to be included in couples’ groups again either. Perhaps it’s cruel of me to tell you so much so soon, but then again perhaps, as it happens to you, it will be of some help to know that this is the way it is! And of course, to be able to accept things that can’t be changed is a mark of maturity. There will be those who can “explain” to you God’s purposes in all of this. They’ll “see” what it’s supposed to mean for you. Don’t worry about them. They are blind. No explanation this side of Heaven can possibly cover the data. It’s imponderable, inexplicable, and far, far beyond any explanations. You have to cast all that nonsense on the Rock too. Your ringing assertion of faith in God’s sovereign design was a great encouragement to me. He’s there, He’s God, He’s in charge, and we do not flounder around in a sea of pure chance. Our hope is “for that future day when God will resurrect his children. For on that day thorns and thistles, sin, death, and decay—the things that overcame the world against its will, at God’s command—will all disappear, and the world around us will share in the glorious freedom from sin which God’s children enjoy” (Romans 8:19-20, Living Bible). 

Ever so much love,
Elisabeth

(And if I may take the liberty of echoing her sentiments, Diana too)

To the Friends of a Widow or Grieving Person: 

     I know you hurt so very much for your friend. You wonder how they are going on, since you are barely holding it together yourself, and you want so desperately to be of some comfort to them. You want to say the right things at the right time, and step in to help in real ways but are perhaps afraid of intruding on what seems to be a very private matter (often in our culture, grief is not publicly expressed much at all beyond the funeral). You want to fix things. There are no clear-cut answers or solutions when it comes to loss, as much as we'd sometimes wish there were. However, in reflecting on my own experience, and that of others close to me, I've tried to outline some dos and don'ts for coming alongside a grieving friend as simply as I can.

1. Don't assume that we "need space to grieve." Do call, write, visit and stay connected. The people that comforted me the most were the ones that were there: at the hospital, at the funeral, sleeping over or leaving a couch open when I was lonely, inviting me to dinner or coffee, letting me join their own family events. Their mere presence in those moments showed me that they cared and that I was important to them. 

Side Note: Do realize that everyone grieves differently. Perhaps one person in the family has expressed that they would like space to grieve and would prefer an email or phone call over a face to face chat, but someone else in the same family may feel different. Give people permission to grieve differently and support them in ways that are meaningful to them.

2. Don't just tell us to call if we need anything. The truth is, most of us will never make that call. Often, so many people have made the same well-meaning, yet generic offer of help that we don't know who to ask anyway. And for those whose loved one experienced a prolonged illness prior to their passing, asking for help yet again may seem like a burden. Do take the initiative to think about what we might need and make a specific offer. Initiate conversations and contact. It can be very difficult to discern out of the hundred-something offers to talk, who really meant it. Ask to run errands with us, come over and sit with us, etc.

3. Don't think you always have to have answers or explanations or truths to share. Do listen, listen, listen, and listen some more.

4. Don't tell us you understand. The truth is, even if you've experienced a similar loss, the situations could be very different. Losses can be sudden or prolonged. Relationships lost could be long or short, bitter or sweet. Do share relevant stories and experiences once we've had some time to process our own experience.

5. Don't (please don't!) make our lost loved one a "taboo" subject. Do share memories of them, and listen to our memories of them. For the first couple months after my husband's death, the people I frequently found solace in were my husband's friends, because they were the ones most likely to reminisce about him and miss him along with me. I frequently found that others were fearful of bringing Jake up in conversation, for fear that it would hurt me further or bring up painful memories. Know this, friend of a grieving person: first, you are not bringing up anything the person is not already thinking about. Their lost loved one will likely be the first thing on their minds for many months, regardless of whether you bring them up in conversation or not. Second, know that showing your care and love for their lost loved one will bring far more comfort than it will pain. 

6. Don't make offers that you don't intend to follow up on. It would be better to just say, "I'm thinking about you," and make no offer at all, than making a well-intended but not carried-through offer.

7. Don't shy away from inviting us to happy events. Do invite us anyway.  It's true that many events will remind us of our loved one. However, even if we don't feel up to attending, we'll still appreciate that you thought of us and can just decline the offer this time.

 8. Don't expect us to be done grieving in a year, or to grieve in a prescribed order. Do accept us, pray for us, and wait expectantly for our healing. In the months following a loss, many people will ask how you are, but one soon learns that only some of those people truly care to wait for an answer. Be genuine. Be patient. Grief takes time.

9. Don't forget to pray for us! Do pray for us and with us. Pray the Word over us. GOD's Word has more power than any human wisdom.

10. Don't be afraid of tears. They're a big part of this whole grieving thing. Tears can bring release, comfort, and healing. Do hug us when we cry; cry with us if you're hurting too, and tell us if we have mascara running down our face afterwards :)