You’ve just heard that tragedy has struck in the Jones family. Sister Jones has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. Thinking of the struggle the family is facing tugs at your heart strings. Your mind starts to whirl, thinking about what you could do to help them. Okay, let’s be honest. The only thing you think is, “I should take them dinner!” No other thought crosses your mind, because no other ideas have ever been presented. It’s probably what you saw your mother do for those in need. It’s what they ask you to do at church. It’s like our minds have set “take them dinner” as the default response to anyone going through a tragedy. But this method leaves so many needs unmet.
The summer that my mom was sick and passed away, I was heartbroken, stressed, lonely, and I couldn’t focus to save my life. My world was spinning out of control, and I couldn’t find a way to slow it down. People tried to reach out and help, but generally their efforts made things worse. In my rapidly changing life, I didn’t need people I’d never talked to before to ask me about my feelings. I didn’t need people to look at me with eyes full of pity, telling me they understood what I was going through. And I definitely didn’t need people stuffing our fridge so full of food that I couldn’t find anything in it. No, what I needed was a sense of normalcy.
Serve according to their needs
Everyone is different. Everyone has different needs. So if everyone has different needs, why do we treat them all the same? Why do we carry a parade of casseroles, jello salads, and rotisserie chickens into the kitchen of every family facing a tragedy? That was my worst nightmare. The only things in my life that I felt I could control were breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Making meals for my parents was therapeutic for me. Mom would sit at the counter an talk to me as I cooked, answering my cooking questions as I went. After she passed away, those moments I spent with my mom became some of my favorite memories. So when people insisted on bringing us food even when we asked them not to, I got frustrated, bitter, and even more stressed. Now, keep in mind that other people may need meals. That’s why the key in mourning with those that mourn is listening to and discerning needs. You have to find out what they really need in order to be of service. Otherwise the help you provide is, well, not helpful.
Maintain the usual relationship
It seemed that every middle aged woman I knew came up to me, put their hand on my arm, looked at me with these sad, understanding eyes, and said, “How are you doing?” It was like they wanted to be a mother figure to me. I really just wanted to jerk my arm away, frown, and sarcastically mumble, “How do you think?” But I didn’t. I put on a brave face, put my emotional walls up as high as they would go, and said, “I’m doing okay.” Everyone seemed to think they had to say something to make me feel better, or to let me know that they were there for me. But the reality was, I just wanted people to treat me the way they usually did.
I learned that teenagers are fabulous at this! They don’t know what to say or do, so they just don’t say or do anything. The people at school that barely talked to me still barely talked to me. My friends still vented about tests and boys and how annoying their parents were. I had one friend who knew just how to make me feel loved without saying anything or invading my privacy. He would drop off a bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper on my doorstep on days that were particularly difficult. He didn’t knock, just left it there for me to find. It was perfect for me, because I knew he was thinking about me and that I could count on him, but I didn’t have to talk unless I wanted to. He knew this was what I needed because he knew me. He knew that if I wanted to talk about it, I would call him. He knew that talking to me about it would probably make it worse. He found a way to show that he cared about me without hurting me.
I don’t like talking about my feelings, and I know that not everyone is like me. A good rule of thumb is to maintain the same relationship that you usually have with the person that is mourning. If you would normally exchange a simple, lighthearted conversation, do that. If you have the “smile and wave” kind of friendship, just keep smiling and waving. But, if you have the kind of relationship where you eat ice cream, spill your darkest secrets, and cry on each other’s shoulders, then you better go buy some ice cream, because your friend is going to need you!
Remember that you don’t know how they feel
“My dad passed away when I was 22, so I know exactly how you feel.” I heard things like that a lot. And again, my gut reaction was not very nice. “This is my mom, and I’m 17. How is that the same?” I have four siblings, and even if they had told me that they understood exactly how I feel, I probably would have wanted to punch them. But they wouldn’t have done that, because they understood that as different people, even in the same situation, we feel differently. We mourn differently. People telling me that they knew how I felt didn’t make me feel understood. I felt it belittled what I was going through. It was probably the least sympathetic, least helpful thing anyone could have said to me.
Recognize that they’ll be hurting for a while
The hardest point in the mourning process for me was about three months after my mom’s passing. I didn’t have a funeral to plan or thank you notes to write anymore. There was nothing to consume my mind and keep me busy enough to mask the pain as there had been right after she passed. It was then that I had to face the reality of what had happened in my life. I had to learn to live without a mom. But by that point, everyone else had moved on. No one sent flowers, cards, or put Diet Dr. Pepper on my porch anymore. It was probably one of the loneliest times of my life. Mourning is a process. Everyone has a different time line. But never stop being there for your friend!
But don't keep bringing it up either
Even years later, people want to keep talking about my mom every time anything good happens in my life. When I graduated, when I got my mission call, and when I got home from my mission the phrase I heard most was, "Your mom is so proud of you." Even today a bitter, sarcastic thought still comes to mind first. "Don't you think I know that? She was my mom. I know her. And I know she's proud of me." I know people's intentions are good. But rather than making me feel loved, this reminds me of the single most painful fact of my life: that my mom isn't physically here to experience my triumphs with me. Instead of allowing me to rejoice in my successes and move on with my life, these well-intended people force me to dwell on something that I don't want to think about. I don't want to remember that she's not there. I certainly don't want to forget about her either. I will always remember her. But I do have to move on with my life. She would want me to celebrate my successes without single thought for her. She is with me, and in quite moments I feel her presence and I know that she is proud of me. Those are the moments that mean the most.
Knowing how to help people who are mourning is almost impossible sometimes. You’ll probably mess up more often than you’ll get it right. But the key is to remember that this is about them, not about you. I knew people had good intentions, but many times I felt they did what they did because it made them feel better knowing that they’d done something. It was about filling their need to help, not about filling our needs in our trials. You may want to help them in every imaginable way, but what they may need is a little bit of space. Or, they may need your constant companionship. They may not need anything, or they may need help with the housework and yard work. Or maybe, like me, they just need to walk out their front door in the morning and find their favorite drink waiting for them.
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