It's a pretty standard Thursday evening when you get a phone call that a crisis has happened. You know how to handle a crisis. Until several hours later that you get an eerily stoic phone call saying that the crisis has turned into a tragedy. Heart attack has become death. So, now what do you do?
We interrupt your programming for this important announcement. Here is my official disclaimer: 1) I know only my personal experience. I know what was and was not helpful to me. I do not pretend to speak on behalf of the entirety of Dead Parents' Club. So as you continue to read, please keep in mind that I am someone who relies and thrives on the presence of other people in my life, both physically with me and generally supportive. 2) This is about to contain some information about me dating (etc.)--if you are my mother, or someone who is a parental-like figure in my life, proceed at your own risk. We will now return to your regularly scheduled programming. Here are the people, the actions, gestures, etc. that helped me the most in the weeks and months immediately following my Dad's death. One of my best friends, called me the day after it happened. She asked if there was anything she could do to help. Obviously, there is no cure for death. And no cure for grief. But in that moment I really wanted Starbucks. So I said yes actually, could you pick up Starbucks and come over and sit with me. She came over, brought coffee drinks for me, my mom, and my aunt. Now I'm not about to sit here and tell you the healing qualities of Starbucks coffee. Here's where I'm going with this. If/when you call and ask if there's anything you can do, you should be willing to do what is asked. Even if it's something as silly as picking up a blended coffee beverage. Even now, I worry what people will think of my reactions in grief, I worry about what people will think of my behaviors and wants. But sometimes what you need in that moment is a cup of coffee, and that is a small thing someone absolutely can do for you. That is a small thing you can absolutely do for someone else! So do the little things without judgement, and ask for the little things without worry. One of my mentors in life called me a few days after. I forget how she started the conversation, but I remember this. "I'm taking you to get coffee." And she did. I know right now you're thinking I really do believe coffee cures grief--no. My mother and I know better. The beauty in this, was once again that she showed up. And she did. And this was just the beginning. She consistently showed up and took actions--sometimes actions I wouldn't have thought to ask for. She got me a gift card to Netflix, so I could watch and unwind; a gift card to Amazon in case I decided I needed something like a book or a little gift or whatever, she wanted to make sure I could treat myself if/when I needed. These actions, and unasked for moments of "I'm going to do this for you" made those first few months bearable because it wasn't just an empty "let me know if you need anything..." offer. On a Tuesday night, I was at school, and I felt particularly lonely. I was trying to get homework done, homework I needed help with, homework my dad could have helped me with. And often times, when I have moments of "I need my Dad", it doesn't matter if 20 people are around me, I feel alone. In that moment, I needed someone who knew my Dad, but also knew me and my Dad. Which is to say, had seen us be us and just got it. So I called up one of my oldest friends in tears and very reluctantly asked her to come over. She drove roughly 40 minutes to get to me, and then took me out to Chipotle. We talked a lot about my Dad, and just how shitty everything was. I am someone who processes out loud, and someone who keeps very few things to herself. I will tell you my entire life story if you really want to know, even if we've just met. The problem with that is, nobody wants to hear about death. Especially the recent death of your Dad. If I ever opened my mouth to talk about it or accidentally let a story slip and then follow it up with the fact that he was now dead, I felt terrible, because it felt like this unbearable burden that I was putting on everyone who would listen. So yes, being fed for the first time in a day and a half was important. And yes, just being with someone was important. But even more than that was that I felt comfortable sharing and talking about my Dad and how much it sucked that he was gone. Be that person for someone! Sit through reasonable discomfort, ask yourself why you're uncomfortable in the first place, and create a safe space for your person to talk about their whatever it is. [This is the part with the dating story so maybe skip this part if you don't wanna know] Dating and grief are a kind of awkward combination (more on that to come). There's really no way to bring up the whole dead Dad thing. And honestly, I don't know that I ever had an idea of what the right reaction was when I shared, until it happened. I was on a first date, and after ice cream and a walk and some conversation, we were kissing in the back of his car, as you do. As we're in the back, my phone started buzzing. Except that then it wouldn't stop. I got a constant stream of phone calls and text messages for a solid 15 minutes before I finally decided I should check and see what was going on. When I realized it was my Mom, I knew I had to call her back, at which point I told the man in front of me this. He gave me a look...a 22 year old doesn't usually *have* to respond to her mother's phone call immediately. In fact, most mother's weren't this persistent. I could tell he was confused about if I had one of *those* mothers and if I was the daughter, practically an adult, but enabling her to run my life none the less. So mostly without thinking, I said "My mom's not a helicopter Mom! She just has PTSD 'cause my Dad died in November and now at the drop of a hat, anyone of us could die so I just have to call her back so she knows I'm alive". At which point, he looked at me for just a moment before reaching out and pulling me in for a hug. And he just held me for a little bit. Then I called my mom, and we enjoyed the rest of our date. Sometimes you don't have to say anything in response. That hug meant more to me than a lot of the words I got from people who had known me for years. Finally, let's talk about professors. I went to a liberal arts college, and my college experience was defined by the relationships I had with my professors. If we're being 100% honest, they're probably the reason I stayed at Denison, but that is another story for another day. After my Dad's passing, I received several e-mails from professors--most of whom I was not at the time in a class with. That being said,I had two professors in particularly whom I wholeheartedly credit for my graduating on time. On a regular basis, I got e-mails saying "Marie, I hope you are okay, stop in and see me so I know you are eating" or "Marie, I know class is a lot for you right now, but please let me know that you are safe". One of these professors even suggested I go to drop-in counseling at school, which lead me to a really wonderful counselor I saw all of the following semester. These women were not going to let me slip through the cracks. I had worked very hard for three years and they knew it, and despite the gravity of my situation, they knew I could make it. And truly, because of them, I did. So in case you haven't noticed, I certainly did not lack support. I had a lot of truly wonderful, supportive people around me and they helped me immensely. That said, some days, some weeks, some months are just hard. And that's fine too. As someone who is grieving, you are allowed to be upset, in whichever form you choose. And as someone supporting someone in grief, you are *NOT* expected to cure grief. It cannot be done! Nobody expects that of you. But what is helpful is to listen, to show up, to actively choose to care, and show that you do, in whatever ways you know how.
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May 2018
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