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.

Brian and the Break

Jason and I needed a break this fall, and a break is exactly what we got in an excursion to Cedar Breaks and Brian Head with a sister. When you get to take a break to a break, you know it’s going to be good.

Parowan Gap
Parowan Gap contains graphics that span across centuries and cultures.

Jason and I stopped at Parowan Gap on the way to Brian Head. There, an impressive array of petroglyphs has accumulated from different cultures over more than 1000 years, including the Fremont, Paiute, and Hopi. Although Parowan Gap is just a few minutes off I-15, we had never even heard of it until this trip. If you are passing through Utah by way of I-15, this is a great quick detour near Parowan.

Cedar from Ash
We caught new perspectives of Cedar Breaks from Ashdown Gorge.

The next morning, we began our adventuring in earnest. We rented a six-seat UTV, a Ranger Crew 1000, and headed skyward. We rode it up to the Twisted Forest Trail in Ashdown Gorge and then took to our feet. The Twisted Forest Trail wanders through sparse bristlecone pines atop white and ginger streaked hillsides to a dramatic precipice.

masters of survival
Masters of adaptation, bristlecones can survive losing up to 90% of their bark to fire and storm damage.
the bark of the bristlecone
Over thousands of years, severe conditions transform dead bristlecone bark into contorted art.

Bristlecone pines are one of the oldest organisms in the world and are only found in six states. They can live over 5,000 years in harsh high-elevation climates. Between their fascinating figures and the views along the dizzying ridgeline, we didn’t mind undertaking this mile-long trek twice to allow a missing member of our group to also enjoy it.

a conspicuous termination
The end of the Twisted Forest Trail truly is an ending.

After a double take of the Twisted Forest, we drove our UTV to the crest of High Mountain, which offered extensive outlooks on Cedar Breaks from its hidden backside.

High Mountain
You can’t plan a picture like this.
catching the bus
An abandoned bus isn’t a critter typically spotted in the woods.

The next day, we hiked at 10,000 feet above hoodoos, fins, arches, and gulches in Cedar Breaks National Monument. At Cedar Breaks, iron and manganese have been shaped by ice, wind, and faults over millions of years to create some of nature’s most exquisite geographic art. A couple of the kids in our group had never been to Cedar Breaks making the Ramparts Trail to Spectra Point and the Ramparts Overlook a must. Although this is probably the most popular path in the monument, it feels uncharacteristically hazardous for a standard route with no rails in most places and a 2,000-foot drop-off unnervingly close.

Cedar Breaks
Cedar Breaks’ amphitheater sweeps for three miles.
precarious and picturesque
Life is unforgiving, but the views can be beautiful.

We added another dash of adventure to our trek with an extra spur from the Ramparts Overlook to Bartizan Arch, a new route for all of us. In total, we only rambled about five miles, but we worked hard for those steps. Wind whipped about us with gusts up to 50 MPH, and our elevation changed over 1,200 feet. When you are already at 10,000 feet, a little elevation gain goes a long way.

Bartizan Arch
Bartizan Arch is a rare triple.
Ramparts Overlook
The earth plummets away from you in striking and terrifying ways at Cedar Breaks.

Our trip passed fast, and soon it was time to go home. However, we weren’t ready to relinquish just yet. We let the leisure linger a little with a hike to Hidden Haven Waterfall, just a 1.4-mile undertaking. The journey to this cascade comes with a little scrambling and creek hopping, but it is easy enough for all ages.

sunset at Sunset View Overlook
We surveyed more people than sun at the Sunset View Overlook, but the sunset was acceptably superb.
smoke and scarlet
Smoke from wildfires flushed the sun as it fell.

Afterward, we went to Yankee Meadows Reservoir for a picnic. I can’t say I’d recommend that area currently. It was badly burned by a fire in 2017. While it is starting to regrow, there are more cowpies and charred bark than living plants at this point.

Hidden Haven Falls
Benson Creek drops out of a slot canyon to produce this graceful chute.

Our little break to a large break held impactful scenery and a big impact on sanity. Yes, in case you are wondering, there is still a world outside your walls, and it continues to be magnificent.

Mountains V Microbes

Prologue

Here is the tragic tale of snowy slopes left desolate amidst the unseen onslaught of tiny viruses. This story is one of broken powder bliss and how Jason and I experienced the showdown between mountains and microbes.

Chapter I: Mountains

Thursday, Early January, Solitude

Jason and I went to Solitude for our first time ever at the beginning of January. Nine inches in 24 hours was plenty to tempt us. It wasn’t enough to tempt us early though. We got to Solitude about 12:30 PM after encountering no traffic in the canyon and took a parking spot that had just opened up.

Due to the numerous Ikon passholders, Solitude isn’t necessarily something you will find at Solitude Resort any longer. My advice to those visiting this resort? Don’t use the Moonbeam lift. It’s crowded with beginners and everyone else. The throngs are less intense elsewhere. We enjoyed exploring Eagle Express and Powderhorn, especially the Grumble, Rumble, and Stumble runs.

cold smoke
Fill my plate with hefty portions of powder!

Friday, Mid-January, Solitude

About a week later, 10 inches overnight convinced us to spend an afternoon at Solitude. The new snow had already been trampled under countless skis and boards, but we didn’t waste any time mourning its premature flattening. We tried out Summit Express in search of secret powder. Although there wasn’t any hush-hush fluff on Summit, that lift ride was probably the prettiest we’ve experienced in Big Cottonwood with feathery clouds zooming over imposing Black Bess Peak. We stayed up there around 10,000 feet most of the afternoon riding Dynamite.

Sunday, Mid-January, Brighton

Brighton received 24 inches in 24 hours with 13 of those falling overnight. That ended a week with 55 inches of accumulation, which accounted for most of its 87-inch base. With a platter of precipitation that delicious, we knew competition in the canyon would be concentrated. We left home before 7:00 in an effort to beat the rush. Although we got to Big Cottonwood quickly, a couple traffic accidents and a sudden accumulation of vehicles then delayed us on a grand scale. By the time we reached Brighton, nearly four hours had passed. Four hours! At least parking spots were plentiful as no one else had been able to get up the canyon either. We didn’t get first tracks, but we got tasty seconds and thirds. Intoxicated by the lure of the powder, we boarded for over 3.5 hours with no break to thaw even though it was only about 20 degrees during the warmest part of the day.

beginning with belief
Our nephew handled boarding’s sharp learning curve with enthusiasm.

Friday, Early February, Solitude

In February, we took a nephew boarding with us at Solitude. This was his first boarding experience, and he learned quickly with an afternoon in ski school. While he was practicing his stocky stance, Jason and I stuck with the Grumble, Stumble, and Rumble runs. They still had powder on them from a storm earlier that week. It was bumpy powder, which is probably why it was still there, but we didn’t mind. We stopped to get both burritos and waffles on the way home because beans and whipped cream are an obvious pairing.

Tuesday, Early March, Brighton

Our friend J.R. came with us eager to test out a new board. Temperatures stayed in the low 30s. Hence, we encountered no hardpack. We also did not encounter many people notwithstanding the nearly full parking lot. However, we stumbled upon laughter quite often.

board not bored
On the best boarding days, the mood is as light as the powder.

Chapter II: Microbes

Saturday, March 14th, Everywhere

Resorts began shutting down in swift succession, just one of the many ways COVID abruptly disordered life. Even though resort closures meant missing our favorite months of boarding, they certainly were not the most dramatic changes due to the virus. Had we known what was coming, we would have ridden the slopes endlessly early in the season like stick wranglers who weren’t afraid to get a little frostbite on their saddles.

Chapter III: Mountains with Microbes

Saturdays, April and May, Alta

Although not operational, Alta opened its forbidden slopes to all winter sports enthusiasts including boarders. Without functioning lifts, the only way to access those select hillsides was through shoe power. On a Saturday in April, I convinced Jason to try snowshoeing up and boarding down Alta’s inclines. He remained skeptical as we trekked 90 minutes up the rises of Home Run and Race Hill with boards strapped on our backs. When we started riding, the untrod but slushy snow felt strange. We sunk into it like powder, but it weighed us down. As this is not a common combination at a ski resort, it seemed as uncanny as finding busy city streets abandoned. Despite all our uphill efforts, it only took us 10 minutes to descend.

I guess Jason found the energy required for our shoe/board pursuits acceptable because the next Saturday found us at Alta again in t-shirt weather. This time we went higher up Home Run, almost all the way to the terminus of the Sunnyside lift. Surprisingly, this longer journey took us less time. We got to the top just an hour and 10 minutes after we started. Every second of our 12 minutes down was savored. I like to hog whole runs to myself, and we had nearly the entire resort on this occasion. They say be careful what you wish for. Universe, is it too late to tell you that’s not exactly what I meant?

Our last visit to Alta was in mid-May. By that time, the warm weather had created countless mini crevasses in the snow as if the frosty skin of the mountain had shriveled like a raisin. Still, it was pleasant outside, and we would have been content to be outside even without the pleasant bit.

These trips to Alta were a rope tow to Sanity. Thanks, Alta, for discarding your traditional prejudices regarding boarders and welcoming all to your beautiful slopes in these unusual times!

persistent powder
Powder will again prevail!

Epilogue

Now the snow is long gone but COVID is not. With the 2020-2021 ski season approaching, powder dreams blend with pathogen phobias into a granular jumble of drifting flakes and drifting germs. May snow crystals prove more prolific than viral nucleic acids in the months ahead.