Don't Say This to a Bereaved Parent ...Please!

Don't Say this to a Bereaved Parent:

Most of you know of my passion in my work with bereaved parents. Today, I had the opportunity to have a conversation with a bereaved Mother, and we were addressing the age-old phrase that is a really bad one to say to bereaved parents:

"I could *never* go through that! I would just die if I lost my child."

And

"You're so strong. I could never do it."

These two phrases, and their variations suggesting the same are a really unhelpful, and can commonly even hurt.

A bereaved parent can not help but feel this reaction: "Does this mean that you love your child more than I love mine? Does it mean that my grief doesn't match the loss? Does it mean that you are more sensitive than I? Does it mean that my grief should be more if my love is as strong as yours?"

I think that most bereaved parents clearly understand that people say things that hurt NOT out of *any* maliciousness or obnoxious bent, but because they are -- as is the majority of the nation -- completely unfamiliar with the territory of death and are at a clumsy loss for words. In my extensive work with bereaved parents, I have not met bereaved parents who did not understand this.

As this on-line conversation proceeded, someone suggested that people who are hurting sometimes have emotional reactions to others' comments and actions. And that it helps to remember that the people making the unhelpful comments are, for the most part, trying their best to be nice.

I understand this.

However, irrespective of whether or not the bereaved parent's "hurt reaction" is disproportionate to the utterance or not -- these comments *do* hurt, and that hurt is very real. It is not to be denied and altered for the comfort of those who are not able to step into her/his experience.

They do not have to be snappy, or mean (*nobody* does), but they should not have top feel obligated to accept everything that people say, without being able to answer with a kind yet pointed answer. To the comment, "Oh I would die if I lost *my* child!" I thought of the response: "You're right. I *can't* do this. It is living death. You are right. It *is* impossible. And you're right. I do want to die. Bu that would not be my son's wish. So in his honor, I choose the most difficult thing. Living."

I have no judgement toward the masses of people who say these clumsy, un-helpful things. It is nobody's fault that as a by-product of the cultural values that we have adopted, we can not stand the presence of death in our lives, in our friends, in our conversations. We have been *taught* to stay the hell away. We have been *taught* to try to make it all better, but not how to be *present* with it in any significant way.

It has done us all a great disservice, as ALL of us WILL suffer deep losses through death, and there are so many ways to approach it that we lose out on, due to a society that shoves it under the rug as soon as the service is over and the mess cleaned up.

Bereaved parents so frequently *get the shaft.* I do not completely blame those o' the clumsy comments, I don't judge. I do however, feel passionate about promoting education around death, *conversation* about it, and talk of the unusual, rare blessings that death offers the bereaved --*and* those who are not personally bereaved-- through life's guaranteed pain.

Bereaved parents, suffering the most supreme pain of all life (ask any parent, they would much prefer to be tortured, or go to war, over losing a child, and would do it in a heartbeat), is something that should be afforded the supreme response...interest, care, compassion, and the two most important elements: presence and listening. Most people don't want to hear it. And many will even say so..."Oh, let's not talk about such sad things..." or "What can I do to make you feel better!?" They want to fix it or escape.

Bereaved parents are shut down in so many ways. They are made to feel inadequate for not "bouncing back." They are even chided by others who advise them that they "need to get over it." They are avoided, they lose friends, and they are sometimes accused of "not even trying to be better."

Bereaved parents are my martyrs and heroes, and that is where my loyalties lie.

When we run, we always get caught.

Love to all tonight, Joana