Last week’s blog might have sounded far more pessimistic than I intended or than I am. I said there is no such thing as comfort, and I meant there are no words of comfort that will make the pain of the loss diminish. If comfort means someone saying something and us immediately feeling better, then there is no such thing as comfort. The bottom line is our loved one is no longer here and we must learn to live without their being here, and words don’t accomplish that goal.

That does not mean that people cannot be of help to us. Matter of fact it means we need them more than we could have ever imagined. It just means we need more than “comforting” words. We need them to walk with us through the long journey, without trying to fix it or shorten the trip with words or spin doctoring away our pain. We need people who will:

GIVE US PERMISSION TO GRIEVE 

If you boil down everything ever written about grieving it boils down to permission to grieve. We need safe places where grief is acceptable and encouraged and we need safe people who will allow us to be sad when we are sad, glad when we are glad, and in between when we don’t know what we feel. 

At one of the New York meetings after 9/11 a woman told the group that the person who helped her the most when her son died was a friend who made it a point to be with her every day. She said her mind was spinning in so many circles that she told this friend something different every day. Most of the time what she said was in direct conflict with what she had said the day before. Each time, her friend would respond with “You know you are right. That is exactly how you should feel or respond.” That is called being a safe friend who is giving permission for someone to be as scattered and conflicted as they need to be without judging or correcting. We need permission and most of the time, someone must give it to us and then help us give it to ourselves. Far too often we pressure ourselves by thinking we should be better than we are at any given time in the process.

THEY CAN ACKNOWLEDGE OUR PAIN

The most healing words anyone can say to us are “that must really hurt.” That sounds almost contradictory to everything we have been taught. We were taught to say things to play down the pain or give hope to make the situation not seem so serious. How could “that must really hurt” be more helpful than “I know God will see you through this time of sorrow.” One statement acknowledges our pain and says the person understands and will be patient with us while we heal. The other statement trivializes our pain and pressures us to be better whether we are really better or not. When some one says “that must really hurt” we can respond by simply saying “yes it really does hurt.” What can we say to the God thing? I want to say, “Well, if so, it is time for Him to show up and get to work.” But I don’t dare say that so I am left with a mumbled thank you and one more person to mark off of my list of possible “safe people.”

THEY CAN BE PRESENT

Nothing takes the place of just being there. My wife died less than three months ago and I am already discovering what it feels like to be lonely all the way to the bone. After a while eating alone makes meal time something to dread. Nights get longer and week-ends become agony. A friend whose husband died four years ago said, “I have no friends after five o’clock each afternoon. They will have lunch and go to teas all day, but at five they go home to their families and I go home to empty.”

I have discovered over the years that we need to train our friends to be the help we need. Too often we do not have help because we will not ask for help. Or we do not accept the help when offered. Last week one of my best friends shared how much he wanted to help but did not know how to do so. I said, “ I am tired of eating alone, make some time so we can go to lunch.” That is simple but he did not know and still has no idea how much that will actually help. I am learning how to stop running away from the help offers and to start telling my friends how to be the friends they really want to be. We need people on this journey but they don’t just automatically appear. Sometimes they must be recruited.

Thanks for all the emails and responses you have sent my way. I need them you know.