“Silences make the real conversations between friends. Not the saying but the never needing to say is what counts.” ~Margaret Lee Runbeck
On Friday a family friend’s 17 year old son died in a car accident. One of those accidents that is played and replayed on some loop by stations around the area, analyzing and updating to the point where on the third day of seeing the story in the A-section of the paper, I threw the entire paper in the garbage in a fit of anger and annoyance because all I could think of was his mother.
His wake was earlier this week and when my mother mentioned going I promptly ignored the emails and her phone call with the trepidation usually reserved for meeting new people or being pulled into a closed door meeting with a boss. I hate wakes with the burning passion of a thousand blazing suns. I would rather be on a life long diet of cottage cheese and cooked carrots, my two most hated things, rather than go to a wake. But of course I attend, I always attend because it’s one of those times that no one really gives a shit about my intense fear of a dead person being a few feet away from me because it isn’t about what I want or don’t want to do. It’s about being there and supportive and feigning understanding even when I know that I would give my left arm not to experience that type of emotional pain.
A wake is the time when my social awkwardness comes out in full force and I literally have nothing to say, because what is there to say? The mother hugged me and I said nothing. The siblings smiled at me and I smiled back. The grandfather said “It was nice meeting you” and thanked me for coming and I mumbled a “You’re welcome” and gave a weak smile why he was welcoming. I feel like a simple I’m sorry is too trite and saying ‘My prayers are with you’ sounds fake and like I’m forcing it.
I don’t know what to say without sounding like a complete asshole but I figure that I can’t be that much of an asshole because I was there and that probably means more than anything.
25 Comments
Hon, there’s absolutely nothing you can say. Nothing. In a couple of months, send them a card that you’re still thinking of them. That will mean more than anything.
Great quote. I think this is one of those things that just showing up is all you can do.
I hear you. There is nothing to say. And I know how you feel because I always feel like the world’s biggest turd because I don’t know what to say.
But having been on the other side, it just means a lot to have people there and show up and show their support. And just be there.
So you did exactly the right thing and were there for them.
I’m so with you on wakes and funerals. I am absolutely terrified them. And I am ashamed that part of the reason is the presence of a dead body. I just can’t deal with it. The first funeral I was ever asked to attend was my best friend’s mother’s funeral. I was 12. I didn’t go because I was paralyzed with fear. My best friend! And I couldn’t do it. I still feel guilty about this today even though I was practically a baby then. I am also still angry with my parents for not making me go. When my grandfather died during my freshman year of college, my entire family was angry at me because I refused to go see his body in the casket at the funeral. I still can’t even bear to think about it.
You are so not alone feeling this way.
It is all about showing up. And I have found that even if you feel like saying, “I’m sorry for your loss,” or “My prayers or with you” is completely trite, it can mean a lot to the family of the deceased. I didn’t realize this until I lost two people about whom I cared a great deal within less than a month. Because hearing those words can make one think that it’s OK to talk about one’s pain instead of keeping up the strong face all the time.
I used to dread wakes, too. Like you, I never knew what to say. I’d try on all sorts of things and they all felt wrong. And then I realized, as in the comments above, that it doesn’t really matter. The most-important thing is just showing up. And somehow, something appropriate seems to find its way out of my mouth. I went to a wake for a friend who committed suicide a couple years ago and I saw his sister and said, “I don’t know what to say.” And she said, “There’s nothing to say,” and hugged me. That’s all she needed.
I hate to be repetitive, but there is nothing that can be said at a wake or memorial service that really makes anyone feel any better. If words alone could bring a loved one back, maybe that wouldn’t be the case.
Showing up and showing your support was crucial, and was all that was necessary for the family to know that you care. Don’t worry about it.
Take care.
Just being there was enough. Really.
There really isn’t anything you can say that they probably don’t already know…they know you’re sorry, they know you care (why else would you show up?) so I agree with everyone before me and think that just being there speaks louder than any words.
I don’t know anyone who likes wakes, but I would so much rather the one memorial service and be done with it. I do rather go to a wake than a burial. A burial is just terrifying to me.
It was good that you went. I totally had the same feeling recently when my friend’s grandmother died and I didn’t go to the wake. People do really realize your presence more than you could imagine.
I’m so very sorry. What a horrid thing to happen…
One of my closest friends lost her 10 week old baby last February. It was very sudden and unexpected.
I was afraid of calling her when I was called with the news. Not because we haven’t had hours upon hours of conversations since I moved, but because I didn’t know how to convey how terrified I was for her and how very sorry I was.
But when I called her, I just said, “I heard” and she started crying and I said, “I don’t know what to say” and then I sat on the driveway of my home and together we cried on the phone for quite some time.
And she said “Come” so I did.
That, she said, was one of the most meaningful conversations she had that day.
And so yea, your presence, that was important – so very important.
So sad… There really is nothing that can be said to make these things better, but your presence alone probably meant the world.
Your being there is what is most important.
I usually say nothing and either give a hug or two hand handhold.
As above, and I believe the first rule of life: just show up. I also heartily agree with the card in a coiple of months- they will be buried in them for a while and than somehow we all seem to think, ahhh its been a few weeks, they’re good’ but that is often when the loss becomes more “real”.
Sucks! So sorry, please pass on the condolences of a stranger to the family.
I don’t think you could be an asshole if you tried. Not saying anything says everything in times like those.
Everyone above has said it – particularly Nic at the beginning. Sending a card in a month’s time will mean alot – ALOT.
.I went to the mall just now and saw the mother of said 17 year old. It was her first venture out and she made it 20 minutes before needing to leave. I gave her a hug and asked if she needed anything. She thanked me. Y’all are right; there isn’t much to say and/or do but I’m really, really trying because she is such an awesome person.
You’re a good girl. Being there is what it is all about. I am amazed at how many people CAN’T do that when they really need to.
I hate going to them too. The three most recent ones I’ve had to attend were two suicides and a young Mom friend who died of cancer three days before her 30th birthday. All were awful, and talk about not knowing what to say. Lately, I’ve seemed to adopt the “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?” statement and then I cook like a mad woman. Cooking makes me feel better and food makes the grieving feel better.
you don’t sound like an asshole. I know people who have gone through that kind of pain, and people said really outrageously stupid things to them, and the asshole status of their remarks were not really open to question. Good for you for doing the best you can in a hard situation.
There is no right thing to say, but awkward, uncomfortable, inappropriate words are better than your absence, I promise. That you went despite how horrible it was/is for you, says a lot about your character.
Yeah.
I read this and I get a horrible tightening in my stomach. I don’t even want to think about this kind of pain.
You did the right thing by attending. You did absolutely the right thing by not saying something trite. Your presence alone was enough for the grieving family.
I was just going to visit and lurk, but I wanted to pipe in.
My son died four years ago. I wanted to tape a neon sign to my head that said “I KNOW YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY TO ME AND IT IS OK”.
All that matters is that you say something. Anything. It doesn’t have to be in the crush of everything. You can wait. Because trust me, when reality hits? Down the road? Is when the shock wears off and the coping and need are fierce.
I don’t feel like I know what to say to other people in similar situations and I’ve LIVED it. It is a completely human reaction.
Just a simple “I am so sorry” may feel trite, but it is not. Because you genuinely were sorry for them. I am sure they knew that and your presence was appreciated. You did fine. I don’t know you, but I am very proud that you went, especially given your anxiety of the surroundings. I know it was appreciated.
One Trackback
[...] So I clicked over to her blog and realized that I did ‘know’ Jen in that I wrote about her nephew in November and her sister and I work on the same [...]