I don't see it.
Maybe Eva edited it before you sent your response??
Thanks, btw.
I meant "not a fan?" of the book. I highly recommend it though. Especially handy for knowing how to speak to people who are dying. (If I remember it properly, "So, you're dying huh?" is a good way to break the ice.)
Yes, she must have been busy editing as I was busy posting.
So, you're dying, huh? That would be like me. (Not quite, but close enough).
I have been there when a friend was dying, sort of by mistake, just visiting or so I thought, kind of a wild experience.
A dear friend's husband is dying. Not sick and fighting. Not dead. Dying. I want her to know that I'm thinking of her and sympathetic to the situation, but I'm damned if I know what to say.
So that's what I said the last time I sent her an e-mail. I'm thinking of her. Sympathetic. And that I didn't know what to say.
Sometimes words fail us. Sometimes our emotions make it hard for us to articulate our feelings and thoughts. We just do the best we can to let the person know we care.
You did that, Kicky.
I suppose I should tell this before I disappear for hours of sleep.
Ah, I came in to the room and he was clearly having trouble breathing, not a surprise re his lung problems. I said something like, Hi, H. and touched his hand. More breathing effort. I think he knew I was there, maybe just as a person, a presence.. my voice is distinctive, in its odd way, and different from his adult children's, so maybe he did know it was me.
I pulled up a chair. I may have held his hand again, not sure, no clear memory of iv's or handholding. A few minutes later a well suited doctor rushed in, asked me who I was (an old friend). Are there relatives? (one daughter on flight to Europe at that minute, another probably vacuuming - no, I'm sure I didn't say that! (well, she did vacuum a lot, but she also loved him).. a son probably at work - it was mid afternoon - the names would be in the chart, doctor...) Is there a resuscitation order??? (I don't know.) Is there a resuscitation order? (I don't know.) Perhaps some other sentences. Is there a resuscitation order? (Ask him, just ask him!!!)
At which point, the doctor did ask him point blank, and my friend got it together to gasp, NO. My memory is the doctor rushed out, but maybe that's a retrospect overlay.
I stayed a while more, don't remember what I said except maybe "I love you", or "we love you". I went back to work and worked late. He died that night.
No meaningful philosophic conversation.
This is a man who had a tv series on Ceremonies. Whatever his continuing interest in intellectual matters, he'd well worked out his own views on life. He taught life. We had talked on these matters over time, when things weren't dire.
I am sorry I wasn't there in the middle of that night.
Well, oof, I've had to do this recently, as you all know.
And I said, um, we're so sorry and it just kinda went from there.
Kicky--
Believe me there is nothing you can say to the recently bereaved--especially if the death is sudden-- that will make them feel "better" or resurrect the loved one.
Just remember, the sad occasion is not all about you. Compared to the fact of Human Mortality, you are pretty small potatoes. You aren't expected to try to change the rules of the universe.
What you can do:
Give them your sympathy. This may or may not involve a hug or a handshake. Some people like hugs. Some people don't.
Give them your happy memories of time with the deceased.
Make it clear by your attitude that they are not alone. Ask how they are doing.
Make the "anything I can do" offer both immediately and a week later when the bereaved is not numbed with pain. Follow through.
Listen--don't advise--listen.
Remember, you can't "make everything better". You can only offer support while the universe is being rearranged.
I always say "I'm sorry" because I am. I am sorry that anyone has to go through this. If I knew the deceased, I usually say something I remember about them. Something nice. Just a short, sweet "So-and_so was always so nice to everyone. We'll miss him." Or something like that. If I know the surviving well enough, I offer to talk about it with them. If they decline, that's that and we move on.
It might sound lame but that's what I do.
Call a week from now, and just say something about the end of the call being awkward, and you weren't sure how to handle it.
Everyone's been there; it'll be fine.
ossobuco wrote:Yes, she must have been busy editing as I was busy posting...
That was Kicky's comment, not mine. See page 1 of this thread.
Need some coffee, osso?
I had a friend whose Mom was a school teacher and her boy worked for me along with another neighbor kid. On Halloween night they were supposed to be at ECU with me doing a job and I let them off the hook so they could go to a big party with their friends. No drugs, no alcohol involved. These were great kids. A drunken illegal with a suspended license hit them head on about 5 miles from the house and killed them.
I remember all the overwhelming outpouring of love and support and also the platitudes which were fast and furious. I didn't know what to say and when I got to the hospital where the watch was going on (they lived a few hours) all I could do was give her a hug and say, "This sucks."
When I saw her in the reception line at the funeral home a few days later she said "You're right Steve, this sucks".
Sometimes you just have to say what's on your mind, let it go at that and be there.
I've always been excellent at knowing the right thing to say (unlike Kicky).
My mothers friend, having been diagnosed with cancer and going through treatment after treatment, then finding out the cancer has spread everywhere, and continues to still fight on, called by my mothers house one day. I was there, and met her for the first time since I had heard about her illness, and she looked dreadful.
She and I never got on. I always found her to be a pain in the ass but respected the fact that she and my mother were good friends for many years.
When she walked in, she looked at me pitifully and said "well what do you think about my bad news?" and I immediately responded "I never liked you anyway .... I suppose you expect me to make you a cup of coffee now?"
Now, that sounds downright outrageous to all of you but this is the way we always talked to each other when we were in the same room. She was mean to me and I to her. We sniped at each other all the time and got some perverse satisfaction from it.
When I did my usual snipe she looked shocked, her face turned white (whiter than the deathly shade it already was) and I, for a nanosecond, wanted to bite my tongue. Then she burst out laughing and snapped back at me, insisting I make sure the coffee was hot and bring her a chocolate biccie too. Months afterwards my mom told me that I was the first person not to tip-toe around her condition and treated her exactly the same way I did before she got sick.
Of course her behavior became shocking after that, so I created a monster. It's been 5 years since she was diagnosed and I am certain that the bitch won't die because she wants to persecute me for longer.
Oh, Heeven!
You should go over to her house first thing tomorrow and apologize. Yes, you should. Tell her you're terribly sorry you've been so unkind to her for so long. (Even if you don't mean it, say it anyway.) Give her a big, warm hug and promise to be there for her whenever she needs a sympathetic shoulder, no matter what hour of the night she calls. Then kiss her gently on the cheek.
That oughta kill her.
she'd probably drop dead with the shock.
