Mourning with Those Who Mourn

[Mrs. Funk]

A very good friend in my ward found out her best friend died at the age of 29 in a sudden car accident.

In taking upon us baptismal covenants, we take upon us to mourn with those who mourn. I'm reminded, however, of a post I read "On the Cessation of Suffering."

The writer mentioned a mother in her LDS congregation whose teenaged child died in a similarly sudden and terrible car accident as my friend's friend. People in the ward were great in the heat of crisis. What is most shocking is some of the comments people made after the fact:

Over time, however, it was interesting to see some people react to the mother's seemingly prolonged, and still very raw suffering.

"She just needs to move on,"

"She needs to remember that she will see her again"

"She should count her blessings, she was blessed with that sweet spirit for 16 years"

"She just seems to have lost her faith. It is so sad when people let these experiences shake their faith."

After a certain point, for many people, it becomes inconvenient to recognize the existence of suffering. It cuts into having fun, watching The Bachelor, and, dare I say it? Baking cupcakes.

Is it possible that because of our very belief in the Atonement and in the eternal nature of souls, we sometimes really fail to mourn with those who mourn?

Selfishly, dealing with the grief and suffering of others can be extraordinarily awkward. It's exceedingly difficult to know what to say or do. In response, we somewhat too glibly spout lines about the resurrection and temple covenants binding families together. It's also fairly easy to meet the short-term temporal needs of a person dealing with the death of a loved one. Meals are helpful and make it easier to make the necessary arrangements. I've heard stories of ward members arranging rides to and from the airport when family members come in for the funeral. All helpful, good things.

I'm reminded, however, of the first night after all of our family left town after my mom's funeral. Shock and the necessity to take care of what needed to be taken care of carried us through most of the time immediately after her death and the funeral. We felt bolstered by the presence of so much family. Our ward pitched in a ton.

It was after everything was done, after everybody had left that the true grief came crashing down. My brother and I were both under ten years old, and we all crawled into my dad's bed and just wept for hours.

It is after the crisis phase has passed wherein people are the most vulnerable, the most grief-stricken, and the most desperately in need of support and love. It seems to me that we as Latter-day Saints sometimes aren't the best at dealing with grief and grievers. The attitude that somebody shouldn't be sad because of the miracle of the resurrection doesn't deal with the real issues of human loss.

All that said, I am somewhat at a loss as to help my friend. I recognize her need, and don't have great solutions. I suspect that the world is full of well-meaning but uncertain individuals who are so terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing that they simply do nothing.

[bluegoose]

All that said, I am somewhat at a loss as to help my friend. I recognize her need, and don't have great solutions. I suspect that the world is full of well-meaning but uncertain individuals who are so terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing that they simply do nothing.

Very good post. I can relate to much of what you say.

This week we had a local tragedy in which a 16 year old kid ran out in front of a car and suffered fatal injuries. A girl in our ward was good friends with him from school. She is totally devastated. I am still at a loss as to what to say. Admittedly, my initial reaction would have been to try to comfort her with thoughts on the resurrection. That may or may not have been comforting to her in her profound grief. I don't know. I didn't say anything.

[Pheidippides]

Very good post. I can relate to much of what you say.

This week we had a local tragedy in which a 16 year old kid ran out in front of a car and suffered fatal injuries. A girl in our ward was good friends with him from school. She is totally devastated. I am still at a loss as to what to say. Admittedly, my initial reaction would have been to try to comfort her with thoughts on the resurrection. That may or may not have been comforting to her in her profound grief. I don't know. I didn't say anything.

My personal experience is that the concept of the resurrection was only helpful when it came from me. Otherwise, the concept that people cared enough to send flowers, cards, notes, etc. was the most comforting.

[YOhio]

It was after everything was done, after everybody had left that the true grief came crashing down. My brother and I were both under ten years old, and we all crawled into my dad's bed and just wept for hours.

That breaks my heart.

[Green Monstah]

My personal experience is that the concept of the resurrection was only helpful when it came from me. Otherwise, the concept that people cared enough to send flowers, cards, notes, etc. was the most comforting.

I have a friend and step-brother who both lost children, and they said the same thing. They didn't expect anyone to say "the right thing", but felt a lot of appreciation for small acts of kindness.

[Eddie]

I think you are right, that we don't deal with mourning well. I'm not sure if this is a Mormon thing, or more an issue of a comfort thing. Talking about death and loss makes us uncomfortable and we don't know what to say.

I'm not sure it matters what religion you believe it - that doesn't change much. You might get more "she should get over it, it's time to move on" versus "remember, you are a forever family" type comments. Neither help.


I think you touched on the best way to help/support. And that is to just let her talk about it when she wants to, without expecting that the time will ever come that she doesn't feel some grief at the loss of her friend.

I don't think there is anything good to say. I always end up with "I'm sorry" and that's about it.

I was at Lindquist mortuary for a viewing a couple of years ago and was interested to find that right where people line up to enter the viewing room there was a framed article with suggestions as far was what to say and what not to say.

I loved that this particular mortuary was proactive in not only helping out folks who didn't know what to say through the awkward moment - but also helping those who would be hearing from them. What a great idea.

I tried to find the actual article, which was one page and fairly concise, and found this on the Lindquist website. It's a little longer than what they had displayed, but provides some food for thought...

http://lindquistmortuary.com/griefsupport-topic6.html

[Mrs. Funk]

I think you are right, that we don't deal with mourning well. I'm not sure if this is a Mormon thing, or more an issue of a comfort thing. Talking about death and loss makes us uncomfortable and we don't know what to say.

I'm not sure it matters what religion you believe it - that doesn't change much. You might get more "she should get over it, it's time to move on" versus "remember, you are a forever family" type comments. Neither help.


I think you touched on the best way to help/support. And that is to just let her talk about it when she wants to, without expecting that the time will ever come that she doesn't feel some grief at the loss of her friend.

I don't think there is anything good to say. I always end up with "I'm sorry" and that's about it.

I was at Lindquist mortuary for a viewing a couple of years ago and was interested to find that right where people line up to enter the viewing room there was a framed article with suggestions as far was what to say and what not to say.

I loved that this particular mortuary was proactive in not only helping out folks who didn't know what to say through the awkward moment - but also helping those who would be hearing from them. What a great idea.

I tried to find the actual article, which was one page and fairly concise, and found this on the Lindquist website. It's a little longer than what they had displayed, but provides some food for thought...

http://lindquistmortuary.com/griefsupport-topic6.html

Great resource. I particularly like what it says about asking open-ended questions that allow the grieving person to express how they feel if they want to.

Another great suggestion is to offer specific help. I'm sure many people sincerely mean it when they say, "If you need anything, let me know," but most people don't act on such general offers of help. I tried this out with my friend by offering to watch her children during her friend's memorial service. She hasn't gotten back to me yet, but it's at least a finite something I can do in the meantime if she isn't planning on bringing her kids with her.

I usually just say, "I'm so very, very sorry for your loss. I'm here for you to talk if you would like, or I am happy to just sit with you."

[PaloAltoCougar]

This is a touching and instructive thread. Although I'm not deeply familiar with it, I like the Jewish tradition of sitting shiva, where mourners spend seven days (less under more modern observances) with the spouse or family of the deceased. I think the traditional rules prohibit conversation, at least not about the deaths of others. Job's three friends came to sit with him: So they sat down with him upon the ground seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him: for they saw that his bgrief was very great.

So far, so good, but after the seven days, they started talking (bad move) and raised all sorts of well-meaning but ultimately unhelpful, even hurtful, questions and comments. I've learned a lot from that story. And this thread and others like it are helpful to me to be a better friend at such a horrible time.

[Pheidippides]

I have a friend and step-brother who both lost children, and they said the same thing. They didn't expect anyone to say "the right thing", but felt a lot of appreciation for small acts of kindness.

I will say that, like Mrs. Funk, I had a moment in private that nobody saw. I collapsed in a heap of tears in the shower the next morning and sobbed uncontrollably. And there was nothing anybody could have done about that, nor would I have wanted anybody to do something if they could. I needed to get it out.

[Soccermom]

A very good friend in my ward found out her best friend died at the age of 29 in a sudden car accident.

In taking upon us baptismal covenants, we take upon us to mourn with those who mourn. I'm reminded, however, of a post I read "On the Cessation of Suffering."

The writer mentioned a mother in her LDS congregation whose teenaged child died in a similarly sudden and terrible car accident as my friend's friend. People in the ward were great in the heat of crisis. What is most shocking is some of the comments people made after the fact:



Is it possible that because of our very belief in the Atonement and in the eternal nature of souls, we sometimes really fail to mourn with those who mourn?

Selfishly, dealing with the grief and suffering of others can be extraordinarily awkward. It's exceedingly difficult to know what to say or do. In response, we somewhat too glibly spout lines about the resurrection and temple covenants binding families together. It's also fairly easy to meet the short-term temporal needs of a person dealing with the death of a loved one. Meals are helpful and make it easier to make the necessary arrangements. I've heard stories of ward members arranging rides to and from the airport when family members come in for the funeral. All helpful, good things.

I'm reminded, however, of the first night after all of our family left town after my mom's funeral. Shock and the necessity to take care of what needed to be taken care of carried us through most of the time immediately after her death and the funeral. We felt bolstered by the presence of so much family. Our ward pitched in a ton.

It was after everything was done, after everybody had left that the true grief came crashing down. My brother and I were both under ten years old, and we all crawled into my dad's bed and just wept for hours.

It is after the crisis phase has passed wherein people are the most vulnerable, the most grief-stricken, and the most desperately in need of support and love. It seems to me that we as Latter-day Saints sometimes aren't the best at dealing with grief and grievers. The attitude that somebody shouldn't be sad because of the miracle of the resurrection doesn't deal with the real issues of human loss.

All that said, I am somewhat at a loss as to help my friend. I recognize her need, and don't have great solutions. I suspect that the world is full of well-meaning but uncertain individuals who are so terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing that they simply do nothing.

This is a great post. I remember attending a funeral where Elder Holland spoke. A father had lost his child. This father spoke and apologized for being so sad about losing his daughter when he believed he would see her again. Elder Holland, when it was his turn to speak, turned to that dad and said, so we all heard, that he should not apologize for being sad. That even though we may know that this is not the end, it doesn't erase the loss we feel and he said we should not feel guilty for mourning. I loved that he said that.

[PaloAltoCougar]

I will say that, like Mrs. Funk, I had a moment in private that nobody saw. I collapsed in a heap of tears in the shower the next morning and sobbed uncontrollably. And there was nothing anybody could have done about that, nor would I have wanted anybody to do something if they could. I needed to get it out.

This is a great post. I remember attending a funeral where Elder Holland spoke. A father had lost his child. This father spoke and apologized for being so sad about losing his daughter when he believed he would see her again. Elder Holland, when it was his turn to speak, turned to that dad and said, so we all heard, that he should not apologize for being sad. That even though we may know that this is not the end, it doesn't erase the loss we feel and he said we should not feel guilty for mourning. I loved that he said that.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love.” Washington Irving

[Jeff Lebowski]

I will never forget going to my brother's home after his teenage son committed suicide and sitting with him while people came to visit. Some people just couldn't handle the situation and stayed away. It makes you appreciate those that have the guts to come that come and show support. It doesn't matter if you don't know what to say. Sometimes there is nothing you can say that will be profound or ease the pain. Just come and express your love and concern. And then keep it up after the funeral is over. That is when it is the toughest.

[NorthwestUteFan]

A very good friend in my ward found out her best friend died at the age of 29 in a sudden car accident.

Is it possible that because of our very belief in the Atonement and in the eternal nature of souls, we sometimes really fail to mourn with those who mourn?
It is after the crisis phase has passed wherein people are the most vulnerable, the most grief-stricken, and the most desperately in need of support and love. It seems to me that we as Latter-day Saints sometimes aren't the best at dealing with grief and grievers. The attitude that somebody shouldn't be sad because of the miracle of the resurrection doesn't deal with the real issues of human loss.

All that said, I am somewhat at a loss as to help my friend. I recognize her need, and don't have great solutions. I suspect that the world is full of well-meaning but uncertain individuals who are so terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing that they simply do nothing.

I have a friend and step-brother who both lost children, and they said the same thing. They didn't expect anyone to say "the right thing", but felt a lot of appreciation for small acts of kindness.

Great resource. I particularly like what it says about asking open-ended questions that allow the grieving person to express how they feel if they want to.

I usually just say, "I'm so very, very sorry for your loss. I'm here for you to talk if you would like, or I am happy to just sit with you."

Often our knowledge of the Plan of Salvation can lead us to say things that are not appropriate for a griever to hear. "She is in a better place", "He is with God now", etc., though meant to be helpful only serve to enhance the pain of loss. Further these types of sayings can enforce the feeling of loneliness felt by the griever.

I want to touch on two specific events that helped me through a similar situation.

I lost my youngest brother on Yearbook Day when I was a sophomore in high school. He was a baby, and would be 24 this year. We had plans to leave for Lake Powell at the end of the following week, and we went. In hindsight going to LP was a huge mistake as it substantially disrupted and deferred the grieving process for our family.

My parents called us into their room early in the next morning, told us the news, and my parents wept uncontrollably and were paralyzed/terrified, unable to speak. My sister (age ~7) cried immediately. Brother age 11 had tears in his eyes. Brother age 13 was mad and crying, punched a hole in the bedroom door. I was almost 16, and completely numb and in denial. I put it out of my mind, pretended it didn't happen.

I didn't want to face my own potential mortality; I was a strapping, indestructible teenaged rugby player with nerves of steel and all the answers to life's questions.

I went to school that morning and went through the Yearbook Day motions. Very few people knew what happened, and I wasn't about to talk to anybody about it (needed to keep up the teenage boy "tough guy" appearance). I essentially ambled around puffy-eyed trading my yearbook with others, exchanging pleasantries, and lacking the courage to talk to the 'popular' girls. I moved into the area a bit over a year earlier while in Jr High, so I wasn't really "with the in-crowd".

(1) Later that afternoon my three closest friends showed up and took me out to dinner, on the stipulations that I could talk about anything I wanted to and that I need not bring my own money. We went out to a nice Chinese restaurant and spoke of life, school, summer plans, etc. This one event had a larger positive impact on my eventual recovery from the grief than anything else.

(2) The day afterward my neighbor, who was one of the "popular girls" group and who typically wouldn't hardly give me the time of day, rang my doorbell and wanted to talk to me. She told me how sorry she was for my loss, and asked if I wanted to talk about anything. We spoke of families, life, love, plans for the future, our favorite teachers, what AP classes we were taking the next year, who was dating whom, typical life stuff. She apologized for acting as if she couldn't talk to me in public, and I apologized to her for being a cold-blooded jerk and a rumor monger (I had said some mean things about her...). We had a great exchange and became "allies" in school and at church, and would stand up for each other. She moved away a year later just before Senior year, and I never realized until years later how much she actually helped me in my own grief process. I also never thanked her for her time that day, and her friendship afterward. The hour we spent talking on my porch that day may have been one of the greatest gifts I could have received at the time.

Late one night afew years later, I had my own collapse-and-sob-uncontrollably moment. This was absolutely necessary, required even. I had put off the inevitable to "be strong", and was essentially held back by my grief. After my weeping event I felt as though a great burden had been lifted, and was saddened over the lost time spent under the weight of said burden.

My takeaway from the way my own incredible parents handled our situation is this: MOURN with the person who mourns. GRIEVE with the person who grieves. Mourning is hard work; become a partner in another's grieving process, as 'many hands make light the work'.

Grieving is of course a highly personal journey. Most people don't even recognize where they stand along the path. I didn't understand the process, or the 5 stages of grief very well until I read "On Death and Dying" by Kubler-Ross. As we progress through the stages we do not understand what we will need during the next stage.

Giving of ones' time to simply be a shoulder to cry on can be the greatest gift of all. If necessary I would repeat the offer of help or to spend time together as needed. Even if the person does not accept, he or she will feel loved.

[Pheidippides]

Grieving is of course a highly personal journey. Most people don't even recognize where they stand along the path. I didn't understand the process, or the 5 stages of grief very well until I read "On Death and Dying" by Kubler-Ross. As we progress through the stages we do not understand what we will need during the next stage.

Giving of ones' time to simply be a shoulder to cry on can be the greatest gift of all. If necessary I would repeat the offer of help or to spend time together as needed. Even if the person does not accept, he or she will feel loved.

Truer words have never been spoken. Grieving is a highly individualized process. People in my parents' home ward - as horrible of a place as exists, btw - said aloud that they thought my parents should have been back to normal after a year and wondered what kind of a testimony they had that they weren't. That was the beginning of the end of my dad's relationship with the church, or at least he middle of the end. Their oldest granddaughter - and one of only two - had been taken from them in a twinkling and some random stranger was supposed to know more about grieving for that loss than they did?

I'm still not done grieving, nor will I ever be, but I just do it in different ways now.

[NorthwestUteFan]

I will never forget going to my brother's home after his teenage son committed suicide and sitting with him while people came to visit. Some people just couldn't handle the situation and stayed away. It makes you appreciate those that have the guts to come that come and show support. It doesn't matter if you don't know what to say. Sometimes there is nothing you can say that will be profound or ease the pain. Just come and express your love and concern. And then keep it up after the funeral is over. That is when it is the toughest.

This is an especially difficult situation. Not only was your brother going through the incredible loss and sense of tragedy in losing a son, he also had to deal with the pain of being held as a pariah. The message that sends is, "That person committed suicide, so their family doesn't deserve to mourn".

This couldn't be further from the truth. Most of the time, suicide victims do not foreshadow their intentions. Often there is no way the person's family had no idea the degree of self-loathing one must undergo to commit such an act.

The following quote sums up many of my feelings regarding dealing with loss:

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen."

~Elizabeth Kubler Ross