I have a problem consoling people when they lose someone they love. Me, who never seems to run out of something to say. But it’s true. When my father-in-law died, I held my husband until he could no longer cry but I said very little. We stayed at his family’s house for the duration of the wake, I helped out after work… I did everything to let Speedy know that I shared his grief and that I was there if he needed to talk, cry, reminisce or just to have someone to sit beside him. But I had nothing much to say.
When my uncle — my mother’s only sibling — died, I never said much to his widow and children. And those cousins are probably the ones I have always been closest to. I was there with my family almost every day of the wake. I brought my cousins and aunt cooked food. When I was asked to write the “in memoriam” for the obituary page, they didn’t have to ask twice — I even personally went to the nearest branch of the Manila Bulletin. But console them with words, I did not. Cried with them, I did not either.
When my own father died, I never quite knew how to react when people offered condolences and sympathies.
It isn’t an inability to grieve or to share someone’s grief. It’s just that there are no proper or enough words to say. Offering condolences seems so pro forma. Flowers just seem so ordinary and useless. Reciting prayers by rote just feels too robotic.
No, I’m not posting this because we lost someone recently.
Ben sent me a link to the blog of someone named Jim Johnson whom I don’t know personally. His 14-year-old son Jeff died after he got “hit in the back of the neck by a lacrosse ball during the warm-ups for a game.” I wanted to leave a comment and I stared at my monitor for some time trying to decide what to type in the comment box. Then I realized I had nothing to say that wouldn’t sound so insignificant in his grief. I can’t even say I know how he feels. The truth is, I hope I never know how he feels because I don’t want to lose a child.
Sometimes, there simply are no words.
That’s true.
When you lost three people close to you and almost lose two again due to stroke and surgery in a span of six months,you would like to shut the world out. You lose your sense of humor and the will to live.
Sometimes, time and space are best.
trust me, your silence, company and warm hand is all a bereaved needs.Sometimes words can come out insensitive at a crucial time like this. Just listening to them speak, cry over the loved one relieves them a little.
There are no words to describe a loss of a child. I could probably say The loss is indescribable, unspeakable, horrific. You would not even wish it on your worst enemy.
you know, noemi, what i still can’t figure out is why during the wake, people expect the bereaved to describe the deceased’s last moments. like asking the family to relive the horror. you know, like they’re entitled to hear it, like they’re entitled to be entertained in that way.
I was talking to a cousin of mine who lost his son (a 16 year old) in a roberry. He appreciates all the help and support from everybody but he wished that people will stop saying “I know how you feel”.
Connie, more often than not, I never run out of words to say but I am at a loss when confronted with situations like these. I don’t know why. My prayers are not just for the one who passed away but also for the people he/she left behind, because they are the ones who need the strength to keep up their faith.
oo nga.. ako rin I find it hard to grieve or be sad, when my grandfather died I feel that I was so bad because I couldn’t find myself crying when he was being buried when everyone in the family has so much tears in their eyes… haaay…
@connie- I hate that talaga. When my son died, I clearly informed my siblings to tell guests NOT to ask questions about the death. If the bereaved starts to tell their story, well and good. It’s really prudent for visitors to just sit and listen. And be there to sympathize or help around.
Hello,
Thanks for this message, which is somewhat different from most of your posts, but I’m sure it will be appreciated by many readers including myself. I also have a problem with opening up to other people and telling them how I feel, and it’s done nothing but make my life more complicated. So good for you, to talk about the natural reluctance of most people to talk about things. It helps.
And how about that Ivan around Town? Down in Mindanao eating riper durians? Lucky guy! Last time I was in Zamboanga, I picked up some ripe durians and brought them back to Manila and hung them in the tree in the backyard of Malate Pension!
“It isn’t an inability to grieve or to share someone’s grief. It’s just that there are no proper or enough words to say.”
This is so true. There’s no proper/enough words to truly comfort those who are grieving. The same happened to me when my father died some 10 months ago.
Hi Con. I remember the time my Uncle was very ill and I was quite sad at the office…didn’t you have a few words of consolation to share with me? I still remember that, with appreciation.
i agree. there are simply no words.
Sam, yes, I remember that time. I wasn’t there anymore when he passed away, right?
Yes, by then nakalaya ka na. You had enough of “them folks” and decided you’d rather see your daughter everyday.
. Na-shock na lang ako at wala ka na doon. But at least you stayed long enough so that Speedy could refer that guy who fixed up my beat-up car.:-)
I remember you told me way back then that you wanted to write!
When I lost my grandfather and uncle, I didnt have anything to say at all. As if things went blank and emotions sucked into a black hole
i was supposed to leave a long comment here to share also our grief on the passing of my dad last 1997 but i ended up crying (10 years na pero kalungkot pa din). anyway, you don’t need to say anything just a tight hug and your presence is enough to console the person in grief.
I too cannot find anything decent to say to grieving relatives or friends or strangers. When my half-brother passed away I didn’t know what to say to my Tatay. When my Lola died I just cried with Nanay, we reminisced a lot (we still do). But on both occasions saying “sorry for our lost” seemed hollow. Often I just hug & sit quietly by their side.
We do right by ourselves and those we know when we engage and infuse our gifts and deeds to them while they are still living in our midst, and not when they have left us. It is especially painful for us who are still living, though, in the case of losing a son in Jim Johnson’s case, and more recently in the absolute senselessness of the Virginia Tech tragedy. That is why every second and moment is so important with the people who surround us. Not when they are dead, but right now when we can still see them as alive as one ought to see oneself.
Towards the end of his entry, when Jim said hug your loved ones today… that was really, really profound.
I know, that same statement Jim made on his last posting was the most moving line.
Hi. I lost my father last year. It came all too quick. He announced his health concerns on Christmas Day 2005 and from then on it was a 6 month battle with cancer till the day he died. Being the eldest daughter, among 5 daughters, it was my task to try to tie things together after he died. I had to be tough for everyone even if it was killing me inside. I was the closest to my dad and I was the one beside him and my mom during his entire ordeal. You’re right, there is nothing anybody can say to comfort someone who has lost a loved one. However, most often it is what you don’t say that matters the most.
Kongkong, re “often it is what you don’t say that matters the most.”
I believe it’s called “profound silence”.
I remember when my dad died. When I returned to work, a friend asked me “how was the libing?” I looked a ther strangely as I could not think of an appropriate answer. I guess she was shocked when I replied that it was a success. But given that situation, what else can you say? I mean, my dad did get buried, rigt? so the burial was successful.
honey, i suppose it never entered her mind that you would be shocked by her question. some people are just so unbelievably… i don’t know what adjective to use. but great answer, honey. great answer indeed.
I chose to not go to my Lolo’s week-long wake 7 years ago – damn, its been that long!? I would’ve chosen not to go to the funeral had not my mom force me to go.
I went and delivered a eulogy. I lost it.
I am one of those people who have to say something. I don’t know how much pain people are feeling. But I feel their pain and it hurts me so very much. I always feel like I should tell that person how sorry I am for them and if they had a good relationship, what I saw, that they clearly could see what made that person so dear to them. I tell them even though I know I have experienced grief, I can never experience what they are going through.It is personal and theirs. I just remind them that sometimes it gets quiet days later and people tend to be sad when the workd goes on and theirs don’t and I will be their for them if they would like me to be. Maybe that is too much. If it is, I would like to know. I never want to hurt people with words and respect their space.