Wednesday, October 06, 2021

On Grief and Condolences

 


I'm old. It's expected. People have been dying around me though since I was five when a classmate, cute little Geraldine with her shiny black hair and fringe, died of meningitis.

I lost Eithne,  a sweet friend, when we were nine. She was in the kitchen early in the morning and turned on the electric fire and her nightie caught fire. Pre fireproof clothing days. A terrible, agonizing death. I was devastated. Every Tuesday after school we caught the bus together into the city, she for piano, me for elocution. She was quiet and so was I.

And on through the years, death becomes more of a familiar as we age.

One of my closest friends out here lost her identical twin sister a few weeks ago. Due to my health and The Plague, we hadn't gotten physically together until this evening for dinner.

She is destroyed. She is 8 years younger than me. I had brought her some potted fall flowers, a little custom of mine for any dear one who loses his or her beloved. Flowers are for the living and not for the dead. 

I told her I couldn't understand her loss, not having a twin. I asked her to be real with me after I gave her one long hug. So then she cried and cried and talked all the minuscule details of her dear sister's death. And I listened carefully. Not interrupting. She was executor of the significant estate and her sister's adult children had fallen out. And she was finding it a tough balancing act. 

Her last promise to her sister was that she would look out for her children. So she finally told all concerned to please allow her her grieving time (she's awfully good on boundaries, always has been). She asked me when the grieving would be over. And I just looked at her and said "Never."

And then she smiled at me through her tears and said as she held my hands:

"Thank you for that. Thank you!"

(I can only imagine how sick she is of the holy platitudes).

The barest minimum of words are often the best of condolences. And intense listening to every tiny detail. 

But my heart breaks for her.

32 comments:

  1. I am so sorry to hear you have lost so many in your lifetime. Childhood deaths have to be the hardest I'd think.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, the brush with death so early in life is quite haunting, River, lives unlived is so very sad.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  2. I am so glad (and unsurprised) that you answered her honestly. Grief changes us. Mostly we learn to live with it, but some days it still bites just as hard as it ever did.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, you are absolutely bang on with how it can strike EC, out of the blue and savage in its intensity.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  3. What an awful death for poor Eithne, although too common then.

    You clearly said the right thing at the right time to the grieving twin.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It was horrible, Andrew and why we had to line up at her open white casket with the pain on her face for all to see was traumatizing for us children.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  4. That was such a sweet gift, those pots of flowers. That uplifted her spirits as did your kind words. A good listener is priceless.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Gigi, yes, we just need to sit and listen quietly, it is a healing balm.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  5. What a beautiful experience. Remarkable conclusion. I will remember it to use at need.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I've learned it over the years, Ramana. Platitudes are like slaps in the face. Acknowledgement of the pain is what's needed. With very few words. Especially that awful one "they're in a better place" - that takes the prize.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  6. Yes, this was indeed the right answer. I fell sorry for you and even more so for your friend.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, she's in very rough shape, Charlotte, she's normally a powerhouse of energy and forward plans. She's just crushed.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  7. I have a friend who had a twin and when her twin sister died, I listened to her share her thoughts....almost as if they were one....so much more painful to deal with. She has finally done well and is very close to her niece and nephew and their families. I can't even imagine how painful her transition was feeling a part of her died. Good reading your offerings again. Hugs from the base of the mini-mountain in Maine.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hugs back Regina. Yes there is that huge bond between twins which we can't quite grasp. She mentioned quite casually she and her sister talked every single day on the phone. I had no idea. What an absolute pit of despair that leaves when it's gone.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  8. There have been so many losses lately. It is hard. It is depressing. It is lonely.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So many DKZ I shed quite a few tears over my precious ones lost this year alone.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  9. I completely agree. You did the right thing listening and giving space, too many do not and it only doubles the pain.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ot those awful tropes and cliches offered E, hurt more than they help. Listening intently can't be overrated.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  10. So true about the listening and “never”. You were a good comforer. My earliest memory is of death at about 3 yrs of age, my mother said, when I surprised her many years later describing my memory. It was the days when people were viewed in their homes, probably late 1930’s. Death became a logical consequence of life ever after.


    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, in the Ireland of my childhood, the dead elders were viewed in their homes but children in white coffins placed in front of the altar, probably too much stress and grief for parents in their own homes.

      But funerals are big corporations and shareholders now......sadly.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  11. A girl I knew as a kid died from her nightgown catching fire. Terrifying.

    You know, my little brother was an identical twin and that brother drowned when he was 23. The remaining twin has never really gotten over it - it changed him. I miss that brother, too, of course, but I think there is something about losing an identical twin the rest of us just can't fathom.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So true, SAW and I remember reading one time that we all secretly long for a twin who understands us completely and companions us through life, emotionally if not geographically. So sorry about your brother's loss. How awful for you.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  12. Often I feel like I don't know what to say to someone going through something terrible, but you're right, just saying a few words and then listening is better than coming up with some brilliant speech.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I think I mentioned in my blog one time about just sitting in the hospital room of a friend who had tried to commit suicide. And just staring at the wall with her. There was nothing to say, she had been whipped and whipped worse with the words of the well intentioned who found fault with her abandoning her two little boys.

      Less is more I truly believe.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  13. How good your friend can set boundaries with her squabbling nieces and nephews. Think how much worse it would be for her, trying to keep all the apples under water. And being good at setting boundaries, I hope they all took a BIG step back, and thought.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. They appear to have done that Joanne, but I'm sure they'll be all barking at her heels in a month or so.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  14. "I asked her to be real with me..."
    Never heard that phrase before but it makes so much sense.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I hadn't either Anne, it just came out of my mouth. I could see the teary gratitude all over her face. Talking the horrors through visibly helped her. It was a nasty death.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  15. I cant imagine what it's like to lose an identical twin, but if you've been very close it must be devastating. Indeed, if your loss is a very painful one, the grief may never end.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I believe certain griefs never end Nick. And the relationship of identical twins (tied since birth, sharing the womb) is deep and enduring. And she must have thought of her own death too, you know? Foreboding.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  16. My chaplaincy course taught us a visual metaphor for grief: a ball in a box. Early after a loss the grief ball fills the box (life) Slowly the box expands around the ball and there is room for other things but the ball remains. I don't know how bereaved people feel about the analogy but I found it helpful.

    Grief is a difficult thing and so many of us are afraid to make it worse so we unintentionally make it worse

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I love that Kylie. I was in grief counselling for 6 months myself but never heard of this helpful analogy. Thank you I will treasure it and pass it on.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete

Comments are welcome. Anonymous comments will be deleted unread.

Email me at wisewebwomanatgmaildotcom if you're having trouble.