Helpful things

 I have often wondered what kinds of things are helpful to those who are hurting emotionally and what well-meaning things are not. I think most all of us have been in situations where we don't know what to say or do. Like the times when nothing you say or do can change a terrible situation, but you WANT to be able to do something that might bring a friend or loved one comfort. 

I am sure that many will not agree with me and that is as it should be. We all grieve in our own unique way and we all process things differently. Here are some of the things that I am finding are NOT helpful (for me): 

• Being told that everything happens for a reason. That might be true, but hearing those words right now makes me want to pull my hair out,
• Being told that I should just jump right back into everything so I am distracted from my grief. Certainly there are people who do that and it somehow works for them, but that approach definitely doesn't work for me. I am finding that doing the "normal" daily activities of life is helpful when my mind is able to focus on the task at hand, but, when the grief floods in again, the thing I need to do is give myself permission to disengage from the task at hand and allow myself to feel all the feels, cry all the tears, and wade through the emotions (sometimes there are multiple emotions following one right after the other). 
• It is also not helpful for people to tell me to just let them know how they can help me. The problem with that is that I have no idea WHAT it is that I need. And to complicate things further, I am an introvert, so it is highly unlikely that I will ever summon up enough courage to reach out. 

I pray that no one feels like they are being scolded. I've lost count of how many times I have been the one sharing those above comments or very similar ones with grieving people. I meant well. I really did. I just didn't get it. I wish I still didn't get it.

Now for some of the things that people have done for us and have helped me, are helping me:

• Receiving a warm, genuine hug. 
• Having people ask me how I really am doing and wanting to know the answer, regardless if it is what they are hoping to hear. 
• People reaching out to me and taking the initiative to decide what we are going to do, where we are going, if we are planning to eat out and what time we are doing all of the above. If my input is needed, asking me closed-ended questions where I can give a simple answer. I am finding it extremely exhausting to try to make decisions. 
• People showing up. You know the ones. They show up with food, toilet paper, paper products, and kleenex. 
• The "doers". You mention something you'd like to see happen, and, wowzers, it just seems to magically come to be. 
• Those that have held my hand and prayed with me and for me.
• Hilarious people. The ones who know the healing power of laughter.
• Receiving a thoughtful note - whether electronic or hand-written. (I will confess that I am partial to a hand-written note - there is something cozy and special about it. 
• Gifts. We have received memorial wind chimes, money, figurines, plaques, flowers, food, and so many things I can't recall right now. I don't know if that is due to old age or stress. Let's say stress - I like that answer better. 
• "Checking-in" texts and Facebook messages. This has been so very helpful. It allows us to know that we are being thought of and it gives us a chance to respond when we can. 
• And this final one that has meant so much to me...people remembering our girls and ministering to them in meaningful ways. Our girls have received gift cards, cash, food, and so on. It blesses our hearts so much to see our girls cared for in these ways.

I wanted to capture these thoughts so that I can refer to them down the road when I am in a position to try to provide comfort to someone else. Until losing my son, I really did not understand how incredibly exhausting it is to just do things like brushing my teeth, getting dressed, going to the store, planning a meal, etc. I don't think I understood how much energy grief demands. It is more important than ever for me to make sure I am not allowing myself to get completely depleted. 

I've had some days where I've needed to go out to a store. Maybe because there was something I needed to pick up or maybe my husband was busy somewhere else and I didn't want to be home alone. On those occasions I was noticing how many mother and son pairs were out and about. Sometimes I had to look away as the tears filled up my eyes and other times I smiled as my heart was touched by a little guy calling out for his mommy. I started thinking of the times I was out and about with my son, enjoying our time together with no regard to others who might notice our interactions and find it painful. I'm not being hard on myself, just noting that I have a different perspective now. 

One of my girls has a little boy. I pray to God she never, ever experiences the loss of her son. When I watch her with him, my heart swells and I am so proud of the loving, caring, and attentive mother she is. And another part of me hurts. I feel that all too familiar pain as my heart clenches remembering the time with my son is over. 

My other daughter called me tonight. She was crying. Hard. She was driving to work and suddenly became overwhelmed as a nasty wave of grief overtook her. She was thinking about the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday this week and remembering. Remembering the family get-to-togethers, the games we played, the jokes that were shared, and the typical sibling bantering that went on. Oh, how I wish I could make it better. I would do anything to take away her pain. If Brendan was here I think I'd kick his butt for putting all of us through this. That doesn't make sense though, does it? If he was here, we wouldn't be on this undesirable path. Oh, Brendan, you are so deeply missed.