Tuesday, February 25, 2020

Grief, condolences, the value of each moment

OK, this will be the post for this week. It's a hard post to write, because there's not time to write it, and additionally it's a hard subject, that deserves more time than I have.

A relative of mine just passed away. I think she may be an aunt once removed or something, but I don't really understand the minutia, and it doesn't matter whether she was zero time removed or three. She was family, and she was a really wonderful person. She made art, she had a beautiful garden, she was hard-working, and funny, and true to herself. The world was a much better place for her being in it. It still is, but she passed away from cancer a few days ago. I got to see her a bit ago, while she was fighting it, and at the end she gave me and my girlfriend hugs and whispered, "treasure every day." She said it with such love and earnestness, it hit right to the core, and my girlfriend felt the same way. This woman was living that advice, and it reminded me, viscerally, that I was not, and that it was really important that I do so.

One of her son's is someone I'm close to, and I don't know what to say to him. What do you say to someone you care about whose parent has just died? I tried to put myself into those shoes, but I haven't had that experience. I've had grandparents, I've had best friends. But I don't think it's the same. Though also, I don't think there is any 'same' when it comes to grief. There are a lot of different ways people deal with it. Different ways the same person deals with it. Most of what can be said just seems trite in the face of the vastness of that change. "I'm sorry for your loss" seems so small. I remember so much of what I heard when I was grieving felt like I was doing a service to the other people by listening. They felt the need to do something, say something, like "I'm sorry for your loss" but it wasn't for me. It didn't help me. Having someone I could talk to, who could actually listen, helped, having others who knew the person, to talk about them together, helped. Just having friends to be with, something to distract me, make me smile, helped. Maybe something someone said helped. I don't remember.

But I'm left thinking about what I can do that might actually be supportive, rather than just an additional burden on the grieving. I don't have the answer, since I'm not near enough to come by and spend time with them. Be available for a phone call perhaps?

But her words, or the idea behind them, burn inside me extra brightly these days;
"cherish every moment"

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