Conveying Care in Grief

Loss is on all our minds right now. We grieve the lives we are missing and the lives that have been lost. As a nation and a world, we mourn 2020 and what it has taken from us. It seems an appropriate time to reflect on grief and how we can help others through it.

Why am I somewhat qualified to offer a few insights on this subject? Several years ago, one of Jason’s young siblings passed away unexpectedly. When someone dies suddenly many decades early, shock and anger compound sorrow. The weight of lost time and opportunities feels heavy and unmanageable. It is an excruciating and depleting experience. I was recently reminded of that traumatic event when one of my grandmas died. A full life had been lived in her case, and the sadness of the situation was not jarring. However, not being able to hug fraught relatives or attend the funeral in person due to COVID made the grief more isolating than usual. Those circumstance led me to again ponder what we can do better to comfort others who are mourning. I believe most people want to help those they care about cope with loss, but often they don’t understand how. May the list below, inspired by what I learned a few years ago, provide some ideas:

1.     Supporting Members Don’t Get Much Support

A startling and tragic death, like that of a young person, usually elicits an outpouring of support from others. However, that support is often disproportionately focused on the parents or spouse. While those people certainly need and deserve extensive care, they typically aren’t the only ones struggling. Grief also hits siblings, grandparents, cousins, friends, etc.

Further, those supporting family members have to sustain their relatives too crushed by grief to function. They are the ones carrying most of the weight of emotionally exhausting and time intensive funeral preparations. They are the ones diligently looking out for those at the apex of grief even though their own reserves are depleted, but too often few are looking out for them.

What Might Help?

Remember, grief is less like an established river and more like a floodplain. Its impact is often widespread, and those drowning aren’t always obvious. Spread your care out a little.

2.     Death Is Unappetizing

When the dreadful surprise of a death hits, you don’t eat, but you don’t even remember that you haven’t. Additionally, grocery shopping and other everyday tasks get jumbled by the grief-stricken brain. Even if you thought to eat, you might not have anything to consume.

Jason dropped seven pounds in the week following his sibling’s death, and I lost 11. Even after that initial plunge, my weight continued to dip for weeks. I’m sure this is a common occurrence for many amidst sorrow.

Jason’s parents were provided more meals by kind souls than they knew what to do with. Not a single meal poured into us, and yet, we weren’t eating. This goes back to my previous section and remembering that it isn’t just those at the epicenter of a death who may be devasted by it.

What Might Help?

Give a mourning friend a Grubhub gift card or drop off a meal. Consider taking them some groceries.

3.     Death Is Exhausting

After a shocking death, you don’t sleep. Compound that with the emotional fatigue of loss and the taxing nature of arranging a funeral, and you hit a new level of mental and corporal weariness.

What Might Help?

If your grieving friend or family member has kids, take the kids for an afternoon so he/she can rest.

4.     Death Is Distracting

I don’t know how to convey this properly to those who have never experienced it. It happens with all deaths, but with traumatic deaths it is much more pronounced. Daily routines and everyday tasks, which don’t generally require conscious thought, become habits from some other lifetime. You don’t remember to put gas in the car, buy food, put food in your mouth, shower, change your clothes, etc.

What Might Help?

Run the errands for a grieving friend or coworker that have been neglected. Also, be patient with them. Don’t expect them to be on their A game for weeks or possibly even months.

our common pain
Loss is part of the human experience, yet we are often unsure how to help others through it.

5.     Death Is Expensive

Funerals are pricey, typically at least $10,000-$15,000. For a family not anticipating that expense, it can be an overwhelming burden at an already destressing time.

What Might Help?

If you have the means, considering contributing a small amount to help pay for funeral costs. Also, do your family a favor and have your own funeral fund in place just in case. Then, you won’t leave this weight in the wake of your own passing.

6.     Death Is Isolating

Upon returning to work after his sibling’s death, Jason found people avoided him. They didn’t know what to say, so they didn’t say anything at all. This made hard days much worse.

What Might Help?

Don’t avoid those who have experienced a jolting loss just because finding the right words is tough. It only serves to make them feel even more isolated and alone in their grief. Be willing to make yourself a bit uncomfortable to comfort them.

7.     Death Lingers

There is no expiration date on grief. There is no timeline. Death comes fast at first and then slow. Months or years later, something may remind you of your deceased loved one and sorrow engulf you without warning.

What Might Help?

Don’t forget someone may be gripped by a death for weeks, months, or even years. Don’t let your support be only temporary.

8.     Vague Help Doesn’t Help

If you sincerely want to help someone grieving, don’t just tell them to let you know if they need anything. Vague offers of assistance are unlikely to ever be utilized.

What Might Help?

Suggest specifics. Tell a mourner you’ll bring them a meal or take their kids for a day. Tell them you’ll handle their work project.

9.     COVID Conceals Loss

Losing a loved one during a pandemic is a strange experience. COVID complicates grief. You can’t give a comforting hug, and you often can’t even attend a funeral. You have to think about social distancing at a time when it’s hard to think at all.

What Might Help?

You may be separated from your grieving comrades, but don’t get so lost in your own walls that you forget about them. COVID is detaching enough. Don’t let those coping with loss in the midst of it feel even more alone.

Saying goodbye is hard, whether it be the ache of missing a beloved parental figure or the raw jolt of having many years snatched away from someone still at the beginning of their life. While every circumstance is unique and each person experiences grief differently, I hope my insights help you convey care to others mourning.

As a related final note, may those of you who have lost a loved one to COVID feel surrounded by support and love even in this disjointing time. The nation mourns with you.

The Case of the Curious Spring

Being a social outcast has never been so cool… and isn’t likely to ever be again.

This spring, life quickly turned topsy-turvy in a way most of us didn’t realize was possible. Reflecting now on the last few months seems somewhat premature since the COVID situation is still in flux and the outcome is yet unknown. However, just going over the range of what has happened so far feels like a monumental task. Hence, I wanted to tackle this topic before a 25-page essay becomes necessary.

I’m still digesting this affair with the rest of the world. In another year, decade, or century perhaps we will fully understand the lasting legacy of this pandemic and what we should have done differently. Until then, here’s a bit of my limited perspective.

March

March is supposed to come in like a lion and go out like a lamb. Instead, it felt like one of those rollercoasters that starts out slow and then, next thing you know, the ground just ceases to be under you. It was a month of disruption and isolation where plans vaporized as if hit by a phaser on maximum. The roads and parks became silent and eerie while panic gripped communities. As the death count in the US rocketed and businesses suffered, many Americans fought over toilet paper and placing blame instead of coming together to hinder this microscopic foe.

Like most of you, Jason and I became lost in the pace of change. The month preceding the onset of social distancing was particularly busy for us, so much so that Jason determined we needed to cut out some of our routine activities. Be careful what you wish for my boy! From that eventfulness, we dropped off the quarantine cliff, and suddenly nothing was going on. At first, every day seemed exactly the same as we struggled to adjust.

After the initial shock of speedy isolation wore off, Jason and I started figuring out ways to make isolation less isolating. Within the first month of seclusion, we had 11 virtual board game nights with different sets of friends over Google Hangouts. In our peak week, we had four virtual game nights on consecutive evenings. That proved too much for my eyes. These games were made possible by the resourcefulness of Jason. He rigged some of my photography equipment to hold a cell phone over the game board for a board view. To date, we’ve successfully played Pandemic, King of Tokyo, Splendor, Pandemic Legacy, and Wits & Wagers this way.

King of Tokyo
I organized two virtual game tournaments for my family.

I initiated virtual King of Tokyo and Splendor tournaments with my family using the above-mentioned method. I was pronounced King of Tokyo, while my brother was declared the winner of Isolated Splendor. Later, an online Dominion tournament ensued, which was won by a nephew. The matches were more intense than expected, especially Splendor. Missing the competitive exhilaration provided by sporting events? Set up virtual game nights for all your cutthroat needs!

virtual victors
You can’t be a legitimate champion without a trophy.

Jason and I also introduced virtual movie nights to my family. We’d all watch a prearranged film at a specific time in our respective locations and get online to discuss the flick afterward. This was a weekly tradition for a couple months.

Beyond getting some screen time with real people to reassure us we weren’t the only ones left on the planet, Jason and I kept sane by taking walks almost every evening, often as soon as the workday was over. Sanity was also gained by nearly daily workouts. I’ve got strapping arm muscles (relatively speaking) thanks to my regular stints on the arm bike; I call these my COVID arms. It was easy to make time for exercise in the absence of everything else.

Having interesting projects helped break up the monotony too. Since I wasn’t taking new pictures, I was able to catch up on editing photos from a few years ago. I commenced some sewing projects for Regency accessories. Additionally, I started planting a forest of succulents, an undertaking I anticipated and bought supplies for before the shutdown. I also took advantage of internet learning opportunities. Online ukulele lessons, photography classes, and cosmetic chemistry courses all kept my brain engaged. Thank goodness for technology!

plant presents
This was my first batch of succulents. I gave them all away.
several succulents
This was round two of my succulent mania/therapy. I’m about to plant round three.

Any day that was warm enough, I spent on my laptop in the backyard. This change of setting from the study to the patio mollified my mind considerably. On a few Saturdays, Jason and I legitimately got outdoors by snowshoeing up the slopes of Alta Ski Resort and then snowboarding down them.

gaining elevation at Alta
Jason and I were disappointed the end of the boarding season dissolved due to COVID, but we made this happen.
potholed powder
By the last time we went to Alta in mid-May, the snow had melted into countless crevasses.

And how was and is working from home working? Jason and I get along exceptionally well. Even after being compacted together 24-7 for months, we still adore each other. Transitioning to working from home was pretty easy for us. The hardest thing was Jason’s loud phone conversations and video chats. I’m pretty sure talking to people in meetings and out of meetings is 99% of what he does. I just escape to another floor, or better yet the backyard, when he’s being a chatty Cathy, and all remains good.

May

After two months of social distance, new routines seemed more normal. By the end of April, I had fallen into a productive pattern split between working inside in the morning and outside in the afternoon. The evenings mostly involved walks, cleaning, and exercise. A clear distinction emerged between weekdays and weekends as we grew more accustomed to our altered habits.

We also found a way to get “out” thanks to a local theater creatively transforming their parking lot into a drive-in, which started screening classics like The Goonies, The Bourne Identity, and Back to the Future Part II.

Jason and I launched “distant” lunches to allow for in-person contact. Basically, we realized we could meet up with friends at a park and easily maintain social distance. These lunches continue to be a source of unattached interaction for us. Everyone brings a chair and a meal, and we see each other with our eyeballs. We even did a distant picnic for a family Mother’s Day gathering.

As social obligations began to creep in again, in a limited fashion of course, I noticed they were a bit distracting. While I was ecstatic about seeing people on more than one occasion, the checkoffs on my to-do list declined as did my focus, which made me feel a little overwhelmed. After weeks with almost none of life’s normal interferences, it seemed unnatural to have them return. I missed feeling like there was plenty of time and reason to take long walks with Jason on nearly a daily basis.

Horsetail Falls Trail
Hiking has been another sanity booster for us. Horsetail Falls was one such trek.

June

I think I have acclimated to the new, new normal for now, which is a mix of nothing and something. The staggering lack of focus I felt a month ago has dissipated. I’m not sure where next month and the months after will take me and us as a country, but I hope we will navigate through them wisely.

With about 120,000 deaths in the United States from COVID-19 to date and a surge imminent in Utah, this virus continues to change and shape our attention and daily routines. Amidst the anxiety and turmoil, may we be safe. May we be sane. May we be considerate. May we be rational. May we be responsible. May we be compassionate. We are all in this together from the elderly lady living next door to the small business owner down the street, so let’s help each other and go easy on the judgement. That is my wish for all of you and for myself.

I can’t help but wonder if after all this is over, we as a nation and as a world will be a little depressed instead of elated. That may sound like nonsense. The thing is, when normalcy returns, we may remember that normal wasn’t perfect. The same problems we had before all of this will still be there. Needing to just get through the next few months is less intimidating than needing to get through the next 30 to 50 years. Plus, as engulfing as COVID feels at the moment, there will be other urgent crises. May our perseverance outlast this virus and make us more resilient to all that lies ahead. That is my final wish for this post and all those that read it.

My Southern Shrine

There is something extraordinary about the places that evoke the remnants of childhood joy. My grandma’s house is such a place for me.

Beautiful antebellum homes can be found in unexpected places throughout the South.
Beautiful antebellum homes can be found in unexpected places throughout the South.

My grandma lives in a rural area of the South. Her small home, humble by adult standards, always thrilled me and my siblings as children. To her grandkids that house meant endless doting, plentiful food, innumerable hugs, rows of dress-up shoes- all the standard spoilings of proud and loving grandparents. We believed our grandparents were loaded, quite erroneously, because they offered us everything they had.

Bingo is a popular pastime in the South; my grandma plays it rather religiously.
Bingo is a popular pastime in the South; my grandma plays it rather religiously.
Running is not a popular pastime in the South. We ran into more rattlesnakes than runners during a 10-mile jog.
Running is not a popular pastime in the South. We ran into more rattlesnakes than runners during a 10-mile jog.

Recently, Jason and I took a trip to visit my outstanding grandma. This time, my sister and dad traveled with us. We toured the sites of my father’s youth, lost at Bingo, visited with living relatives and those no longer around, sampled Memphis barbecue, explored antebellum homes, gobbled catfish and hushpuppies, and enjoyed Easter gatherings.

We don't see our Southern relatives often so it was nice to catch up.
We don’t see our Southern relatives often so it was nice to catch up.

My grandma now suffers from some of the afflictions that get us all in the end and doesn’t have the energy she once did but visiting her still brings back a surge of memories and an onslaught of hugs. And that’s why her stout home, unremarkable to the rest of the world, will forever remain a shrine to unconditional love to me.