It's Complicated

2/13/2009

http://i215.photobucket.com/albums/cc133/moonchld999/WeepingAngel2.jpg

Life can be messy, and death can strike when our relationships are in flux.  Many families have to deal with unresolved relationship issues on top of the grief they are feeling.  How we feel about a person's right to make decisions, or even be present at funeral services often depends on which party we are closest to, and not necessarily what might be legal or fair for everyone.  In addition, the complicated and volatile feelings of grief and loss can further polarize and dramatize  the situation.

When someone we love dies, we can react by becoming very possessive.  In our loss, we grasp on to our memories, even complicated ones, and feel that we own all the grief.  Sometimes we get to the point where we resent the grief of those those we see as competitors.  Though the situation demands generosity and understanding, we have a very difficult time giving up more because we've already lost so much.

Most often, the situation is something like this:

A couple has split up, but the deceased has not married their current companion.  Therefore, the adult children and/or the former spouse hold the cards.  The current companion of the deceased feels that they should have the right to make decisions, but legally they have no rights.  Their presence would make the legal spouse and children very uncomfortable, but they have a need to grieve and participate as well.

or,

A couple is divorced, and the deceased has remarried.  In this case, the new spouse holds the power and the children and former spouse of the deceased may be denied their opportunity to grieve and participate. 

It's easy to see how many of us could end up on either side of this situation, depending on just when death strikes.  I advise families in this situation to be as generous as they can be to those who have no decision making power, because the shoe could easily be on the other foot. 

As an undertaker, I am bound to follow the wishes of my client.  Most often this is the legal next of kin, or if there is more than one at the same level of kinship, the person who has engaged my services and has agreed to pay for them.   I am also bound to obey the law, which means that at a public funeral, I can request that people stay away in respect for the family, but I cannot keep them from attending.  In any case, it is a heart wrenching task to even ask a grieving person to leave a funeral.  I have seen too many partners without the title of 'widow', or other 'left-out' relatives come up to the grave to weep after the 'real' family has left, and I know that many relatives and loved ones have had to deal with their grief privately when services have not included them.

https://eee.uci.edu/clients/sbklein/images/NOH/nohmasks/pages/fukai.htm

Japanese  Noh mask of a grieving woman

When I was a child, my parents separated for a couple of years and then reunited.  Soon afterward, my father died.  I distinctly remember that at his memorial service, there was a woman that no one seemed to know, who sat in the back of the funeral parlor.  She may have just been a former student of his, but if she had been closer to my father, I'm glad she was at least able to attend.  Certainly, she didn't call attention to herself or do any 'showboating'.  Sometimes, as my mother has often said, discretion is the better part of valor.  Many families are mature enough to call temporary truce, and allow everyone at least a limited role in the funeral.  

In the past, I have posted advice given by Award-winning Vanity Fair writer and hospice volunteer, Judy Bachrach.  Judy's advice can also be seen on her web site, theCheckoutline.org, and on Wednesdays on Obit magazine  .  Here is her advice on a difficult situation.

http://media.knoxnews.com/

Dear Judy,

Please don’t use my real name or anything similar to my name. I live in a medium-sized town in the South and everyone here gossips. My problem is the man I’ve been quietly seeing for 2 years died suddenly (thrombosis). It was a big shock, not just to me, but to everyone here.  His funeral is in a few days, and it will be a big event because he was so prominent and he comes from a prominent family too.

He was married and he has 3 kids, all in high school or middle school, and I don’t want to cause a fuss at the funeral. But I do want to go. My best friend says I shouldn’t because the wife might know all about us (gossipy town, as I mentioned) and she might throw a fit. She’s that kind of person.

But I think after a 2-year relationship with a man I loved,  I’ve got as much a right to mourn him as she does. Don’t you?

 Theresa

Dear Theresa,

You of course have a right to mourn a close friend. What you don’t have the right to do — given the nature of the town you live in — is come to his funeral and provoke even more gossip.  I’m guessing you’re probably right: the widow knows all about you and your relationship with her late husband – or at least as much as she cares to know. Your feelings toward her are your own business.  But they are not her kids’ business. Whatever these bereaved teenagers  may or may not suspect about their father, a funeral is not the time or occasion to clarify details.

Stay at home. Since your relationship was private, you’re grieving has to be done exactly the same way.

 Thank you for writing

Judy

 http://www.thecheckoutline.org/advice/hes-dead-and-i-cant-go-to-the-funeral/

Grief: Photos and Film by Erwin Olaf

In 2007, Dutch Photographer, Edwin Olaf, created a series of stunningly beautiful photos and a film on the subject of grief.  Here are a few pieces from that series.  For more of Mr. Olaf's work, visit his website. 

Erwin Olaf - Grief from Bernstein Andriulli on Vimeo.

How Do You Do? I'm Sorry For Your Loss

The words we say when trying to comfort others can often be misunderstood or over-analyzed.

When I was in kindergarten, my friend Alex was knocked over, along with his block tower, by another student who was haplessly running through the area.  When I felt bad or was hurt, my parents often said 'I'm sorry', and that was what I said to Alex when he got up crying.  Alex wasn't comforted by my words though, instead he sounded surprised and angry.  "You didn't do it!  What are you sorry about?"

http://positivesharing.com/2007/12/

This is not just a child's reaction.  In mortuary school, another fellow student and apprentice funeral director had been out to some one's home after a death.  He told the widow that he was sorry about her husband, and her response was quite similar to Alex's, "What are you sorry about?  You didn't even know him!" She was angry and felt that his comment was not genuine; just another line handed out to everyone without thought or sincerity.  

Just as I didn't know how to respond to Alex, the apprentice didn't know what to say back to the widow, other than that he was sorry, and that hadn't worked very well the first time. 

Unfortunately, the apprentice vowed that he wouldn't ever say he was sorry to a grieving person again.  I hope that by now, he has changed his mind, because I know that what he was really trying to communicate was that as just another person, whether he knew the deceased or the family or not, he was sorry that such a sad thing had happened to her.  Surely humans have not grown so callous that they cannot feel for strangers in their grief.  In saying "I'm sorry for your loss" or 'I'm sorry about your mom" we are expressing our sadness about the situation and it's effect on another person, not pity or guilt, and not a claim that we know the depth or the unique personal feelings involved in this loss. 

 

http://bixography.com/images/78labels.htm

In a language filled with expressions that are not always meant literally; in which 'How do you do?' is not a question at all, but means 'Nice to meet you'; and the response is 'How do you do?' again, meaning 'Nice to meet you too', perhaps 'I'm sorry for your loss' may be the closest our words can approach the meaning that underlies them.

There will always be anger and misunderstandings where language is concerned, but I believe that when delivered with the correct tone, even a statement like 'How are you' will be understood by a hurting person to be an expression of caring and interest, and not the unthinking blunder that it otherwise could be taken for.

We need to continually be conscious and careful about the words we use with the grieving, but we should never stop telling them that we are sorry, that we care, and that we feel for them in their loss. 

I Came to Nurse Him to His Death: Sid Straley

The following poems were written by Sid Straley, as she was dealing with the recent passing of her father.  I am very pleased to be able to share them here because they give a clear and beautiful glimpse into the experience of death and grieving.  Understanding how the mind and heart work at times like this can help those of us who grieve, to know that we are not alone in this fog.  This work is also for those who want to help and comfort the grieving, because to help, one must first understand the reality of grieving. 

Thanks to Ms. Straley for sharing this work and the photos that accompany it.  More can be seen on her Stumbleupon blog.

i came to nurse him to his death.

sunday, i sat in the home, holding his hand,
reassuring him, between tears, "we are taking you home."
he whispered to me, "you sound like a little piggie."
i snorted back my running nose and laughed.

monday, his body, half-paralysed,
he demanded tylenol as the ambulance crew
loaded him onto the gurney to make the short journey.
it was the loudest i would ever hear him speak again.

settled at home, tylenol administered, i asked,
"are you in any pain?" he felt the need to define this term.
his reply: "i am not in pain like i hit my thumb with a hammer.
i am in discomfort. my head, my neck, my shoulders.
when am i getting the good medicine?"

rather distressed, he waited as patiently as possible.
he asked again, "when is the good medicine coming?"
he stated, "my body feels all messed up." in a small voice.
a voice that required my ear to press nearly to his lips.

"what is happening to me?"
i answered honestly, as he would want,
"the tumour in your brain is growing. it is shutting down your body.
we talked about this happening. your brain is sending wrong messages
to your body because of the tumour in your head."
he did not reply, but he winked at me. a signal of understanding.

the delivery from the chemist finally arrived. i walked to his side
and announced, "i got the good stuff! hardcore!" he gave me a smile
and a thumbs-up sign. i began the task of drug administrator.
syringes to the correct mL, log book detailing meds and times,
white cranberry peach juice with a bendy straw to wash away
the bitter flavour. his favourite balm to soothe his dry lips.

learning to roll and reposition him. always checking his pain levels.
sitting by his side. holding his one strong hand, his right hand.
trying to understand as his voice faded even more. a cool
flannel applied to his forehead. talking to him about nothing...
about everything. knowing our time together was limited.

tuesday evening, he mumbled...
"fox hunt!" more mumbling...
"ah, what the hell do i know?!?" he clearly pronounced.
he slept, he snored. we sat, in turns,
holding his delicate but firm hand.

my respite would come at 11pm each evening,
the night nurse. i was to rest. i was to sleep.
instead, i stared at the ceiling in the dark.
anticipating the knock on my door.

wednesday, no words. his breathing slower,
deeper, but strong. he still sought us out with
his right hand. waving it in the air until one of us
took hold and stayed with him. sat with him.

voluntary swallowing was no more.
i crushed tablets and mixed them with juice.
syringe to spoon,
who knew how useful that skill would prove to be?
speaking all the while, sliding it deep into his mouth,
waiting for an involuntary "gulp" of his throat.

thursday, his temperature rose to 104F.
the nurses let me know what to expect in the
next 24 hours. medications were precisely dosed,
even though i knew it was almost over.
his hand no longer reached out to us.
it lay calmly on his chest.

i sat. i held his hand. i spoke.
i swabbed his mouth with cold water. i applied lip balm.
at midnight, i told him what he already knew,
but what i needed to say.
"i love you... thank you... you can go now..."

my brother at my door, crying. we sat on my bed for a few minutes,
holding one another. preparing to wake our mother.
we walked down the stairs to her bedroom, both sitting
on her bed and told her, "he's gone."
the three of us sat together and cried.

his death certificate reads "time of death: 6.00am"
it was 4.09am.
i plan to bet the fourth horse in the ninth race.
i can only hope the odds are 13:1.

the back story.

we all took turns with him,
except for her.
she busied herself in her kitchen
as much as possible.

she greeted guests at the front door,
as if it was totally natural
that he lie in a hospital bed
in their formal dining room.

"may i offer you a drink?"
friends and acquaintances shuffled
through the foyer, past him, to the large lounge.
"here is a coaster for your glass."
lord forbid the wood be marked,
sweating, little circles,
shadowed halos, on her tables.

"how is he?" she would ask me.
he was feet away from her, but
she could not go to his side.
i was to report to her regularly.

in manic moments, she would break free
from the safety of her kitchen.
almost run to his bed, hugging him.
his once athletic physique, frail and withering.
kissing his forehead, telling him over and over,
"i love you. i love you. i love you."

she had spent six weeks nursing him.
without our knowledge. she did not
want to "bother" us. this strategy landed both
of them in the hospital for a week in february.
she is fighting her own battle with cancer.
she was "clinically exhausted" - she had
not slept a full night in weeks.

they shared a hospital room.
the staff all thought they were so very cute.
they would argue; they would make nice with one another;
they would behave as they had for
53 years of marriage.

i could not be angry with her.
for retreating to her kitchen.
for smiling to guests as he lie dying.
she was in denial that he was leaving her.
after all these years, she could not face it.

the day he died, she repeated to us,
"how dare he do this to me?!?"
she had always threatened to leave him,
but he went first. he beat her out the door.

it was no longer a competition.
it was a loss. it is a loneliness.
an emptiness that she never expected
to grip her so tightly.

Photo Credit- George Poellot

leave of absence, week two - the immediate · Apr 3, 10:23pm

 

 

his body was still warm,

no longer burning with fever.

i stroked the peach-fuzz on his head.

his eyes had been closed for two days.

i gently repositioned his jaw,

closing his silent dry mouth.

 

as my remaining family

shuffled briefly from his side,

seeking out coffee at this early hour,

i quietly recited kaddish over his body.

my traditions would not play

a role in the coming week.

 

nor would his. he was an agnostic.

he had experienced the divisiveness

of organised religion first-hand.

he taught us right from wrong, but

always stressed independent and

critical thought. ask "why?"

 

he could not openly protest as

he had less than a week ago,

as the hospice "spiritual counselour"

had us join hands around his body,

reciting prayers now foreign to me.

i stood next to her. all decisions to follow

would be of comfort to her. within her faith.

 

the hearse arrived to remove the body.

i will never forget earl. the archetype of

funeral parlour employee. his appearance

made me fight off giggles; he was right out

of general casting at any large studio.

in his over-sized black trench coat, head bowed,

he solemnly asked us to leave the room.

it seemed we were only in the bedroom

for seconds. but when we emerged, the body

was gone. bed was stripped, a soft blue cotton

blanket professionally draped across it.

her body shook with more sobbing.

i held her close, supported her,

as i had promised him i would do.

 

everyone else went back to bed.

she and i drank more coffee,

between her crying jags, we began

to organise. the week ahead of us -

a series of events to coordinate.

no sitting shiva for me.

Children and Grief

http://www.mlive.com/grpress/lifestyles/index.ssf/2008/11/gildas_club_expands_reach_of_k.html

Children experience loss at least as profoundly as adults, but they have more limited abilities to understand death and to communicate their feelings. It is vitally important for children to have the opportunity to talk about death and to participate in the funeral services of their loved ones. One wise grandmother I know made a point of taking her grandchildren to the funerals of people the children knew, but were not very close to, when they were young. She knew that the day would come when the children would experience the loss of a close relative, and she wanted them to be prepared for the realities of the situation at a time when it would be easier for them emotionally.

Following is some good advice for dealing with grieving children from an article on grief counselling for youngsters on mlive.com

LISTEN, LEARN, HELP
To help a child who is suffering the loss of a loved one:
• Know that children may have trouble putting their feelings into words.
• Know their behavior may "speak" for them. Feelings of anger or fear of abandonment may show up in behavior.
• Explain dying in simple, direct language. For example, to a young child, you might explain that part of the loved one's body does not work well any more, and without that part working, he or she will die.
• When talking with children, use the proper words, such as "cancer" and "died." Euphemisms such as "passed away," or "she is sleeping" can confuse children and lead to misunderstanding.
• Respond to children with warmth, sensitivity and patience. Answer children's questions but don't overload them with information.
• Allow the child to participate in caring for the terminally ill individual in a way that is meaningful for the child.
• Allow for diversion from the intensity of the situation with opportunities for play and recreation.
• Reassure children they are safe. They often worry they will die, too, or another loved one will die.
• A warm hug and a listening ear can be most reassuring.
• When the death occurs, encourage children to participate in mourning rituals, such as the funeral, if they choose. Explain in advance what they can expect.
• By openly expressing their feelings, adults show children it is natural to grieve when a loved one dies and that pain will ease over time.

-for the full article, visit
http://www.mlive.com/grpress/lifestyles/index.ssf/2008/11/gildas_club_expands_reach_of_k.html

The Needs of the Grieving

Inconsolable Grief (1884)Ivan Kramskoy

http://www.auburn.edu/forlang/russian/art/kramskoy-grief.html

In an article about Grief support in Sudbury, Ontario, funeral director, Gerry M. Lougheed, Jr. describes very clearly the needs of those in grief through his own experience.

"As a funeral director for the past 33 years, I have a lot of head knowledge. I believe I am a good and empathetic professional whose efforts are, at best, a catalyst to the grieving process. At worst, I am an event planner.
But it was when my mother died I discovered what I really needed to be -- an advocate of matters of the heart. I need to amplify the little voice in each of us, which sometimes is deafened at death by circumstances or well-meaning but over-controlling family and friends.
When mom died, I cried. I needed to express my hurt,
When Mom died, I needed to do things, tasks empowered me,
When Mom died, I needed you to be there with your expressions of care and friendship,
When Mom died, I needed to tell my stories and hear your stories about her.
When Mom died, I needed a gathering to speak, to sing to sorrow and to celebrate.
Her death was a natural experience. She died of a blood clot from her cancer drugs.
I was normal in my needs. I needed hands to hug me. I needed heads that would listen to my stories about me and my mom without judgment or hurry. I needed hearts that felt my hurt by letting me confront, not avoid, the hard work of mourning.
It is these hands, heads and hearts that help us journey through the valley of the shadow of death, realizing we are not breaking trail but following the well-trodden path of being a person who loves and is loved."


for the full text visit http://www.thesudburystar.com/ArticleDisplay.aspx?e=1277115

What Not to Say to a Grieving Person, part 2

http://kenichihoshine.com/

A Daily Undertaker reader commented on What not to say to a grieving person, part 1, and I'd like to share some of her thoughts on this subject:

"It has to be said that it's hard to know what to say to someone recently

bereaved because, as Pat says, nothing will take the pain or hurt away or change

anything however eloquently it has been expressed.

It's hardly

surprising then that some people just avoid the bereaved person altogether

simply because they don't know what to say and will actively go out of their way

to avoid them.

I don't actually blame them because it's so tricky

to offer condolences at all.

Having been told in all sincerity, not 24 hours

after my husband died,

'Never mind, he's gone to a better place now!',

I replied without thinking,

'No, he's not ~ he's dead!'

Even though I

was numbed beyond belief by grief and booze, I felt the collective gasp of

unease ripple through the room as I said what I said and I immediately felt

guilty which I know in my heart is not what the person who uttered those words

would have wanted.

I still feel guilty about that years later and in my mind

I know that person still see's me as someone who doesn't 'take prisoners' or

suffer fools gladly and I feel somehow the 'guilty' party for my instinctive

reaction.

It's a shame that I think this way but that's just me, we all

react differently but I'd rather have had that person's company and misguided

attempt at comfort than not at all because at the end of the day, it was

heartfelt and his heart was indeed in the right place!

It's important to

know that there are NO right things to say

but you can never know how much

the bereaved needs and appreciates your support and company....even if it all

comes out wrong,

just being there is enough.

We all lose somebody

close to us in the end,

it's a fact of life we'd rather not face. " -T.D.

Memory

http://academart.com/Savelieva_soviet_period_art.htm

Savelieva Valentina, 1991

Working Out Grief in Art

Everyone, it seems, must find their own path in working through the grief of losing a loved one. We should never tell a grieving person that we know what they are going through because we can't know -each grief is unique. While it may be essential for one person to return to work right away, for another, taking a long respite may be the best path. The important thing is that we listen to ourselves and feel empowered to do what we feel we must do to work through our grief, and move forward toward acceptance and involvement in life. Artist Cathy Weber of Dillon, Montana found a way to work through what she describes as her own 'paralyzing grief' through her art work.
"In the fall of 1994, when I was 3 months pregnant (having had several earlier miscarriages), my partner of 12 years, Jack, was diagnosed with a soft tissue sarcoma of which he died nearly 2 years later in August of 1996. In the interim we endured the horrors of multiple surgeries and chemotherapeutic assaults and our son, Rio, was born.
In my own experience of paralyzing grief, it has occurred to me that humans love, die and experience profound heartache as a common element of our lives. Although the painful suffering of grief is a very personal and often private process few of us manage to escape it. With the pictures I am making now, I hope to translate my own grieving process into a series of images in which the viewers can recognize and honor themselves.
Upon Jack's death, I began to make notations and sketches for a series of pictures based on my feelings and emotional experiences. For the first 18 months I was unable to face them in my studio but notions continued to present themselves and I continued to take notes. The finished body of work is made up of 20 pieces. Three contain stitched images that I made during endless hours at hospital bedsides." for the full text, and views of the entire series, visit the site http://www.dyingwell.com/griefseries/Main.htm

Gypsy graves have a life of their own in Portland, Oregon

In Portland Oregon's beautiful Rose City Cemetery, there is a section of Gypsy graves. The monuments on these graves are interesting enough during most of the year because of the photographs of men in big hats smoking cigars, and ladies in scarves toasting us with wine glasses that are displayed on many of the large monuments. During Christmas and Easter, though, the graves take on a life of their own as they are decorated with an unbelievable amount of baskets, candy, cigars, bunnies, full sized artificial Christmas trees and toys. This always looks odd next to the quiet graves nearby, but think about it, and it makes a lot of sense. Even though our dead are gone, they live on in our minds and memories. They are still in our thoughts and in our lives, just as they were when alive. Our dead are in our thoughts especially during the holidays. Maybe if more of us had a ritual that kept our dead as a part of our holiday traditions, the holidays wouldn't be so difficult to enjoy without them.