That's Not Helpful - A Do's and Dont's Regarding BP's {Bereaved Parents}

Speaking for the general populace, in our need to be helpful, we find ourselves wanting to encourage the bereaved and help them along their path.  We want to know that they are okay, and we are probably looking to move on as well.  After all, we've brought the casserole or attended the service.  We've offered our prayers and condolences, blessed them with a card, flowers or a plant, and we would now like to believe that they are happy, moving forward, living life again, and being thankful and grateful for all the other blessings in their lives. 

When this isn't happening, in our self-suggested time frame, which seems to be around 3-6 months, we start to assume the bereaved parent is stuck and may need our help.  They may even be depressed, and we have several brilliant ideas that we feel we must, most definitely, share with said bereaved souls. So, again, we dig deep and we start throwing out a few helpful cliches:  {a phrase or opinion that is overused and betrays a lack of original thought; a very predictable or unoriginal thing or person; a stereotype} such as:

• At least. . . (just don't, never helpful)
• He's in a better place
• Now you have a guardian angel
• He got his wings
• God must have needed him
• I know how you feel
• Time heals all wounds
• God will use it for good
• You'll see him again
• He/She is watching over you
• God is good!  All the time! (Use it in context - He is, but what happened was not good/not ordained/not a #blessing)
• Everything happens for a reason
• God doesn't give you more than you can handle 
• You can always have more children
• Let me tell you how to feel
• At least you have _______(insert other children's/grandchildren's names)
• Only the good die young
• It was his time

I'm sure I've missed a few, but you get the point. People, don't try to make sense out of the grief. Don't try to explain it away with a few overused phrases.  In this case, fewer words are better.  This makes no sense and it never will.  

Then, shortly after the cliches have run their course, comes the infamous YouTube videos, sad song shares, and Pinterest quotes. These things are sent to you at all hours of the day and night via Facebook or text message. Double it if the death happened close to a holiday. For instance, the long and melancholy power point set to depressing music with words of hope and/or encouragement scrolling across the screen about loss, which I guess is designed to inspire you too. . . what?? Suicidal thoughts?  Or maybe a beautifully sad song about death and dying to bring you even further down into the depths of despair - like I wasn't there already?  Or how about sending a little diddy we've found on Pinterest - that you feel completely encompasses said grief, and you happily hit the share button. That should help them heal, right?  I mean it did kindly suggest they move on and stop "living in" said grief.  Like they have a choice.  Because living without my grief would require a lobotomy. Now there's a helpful thought.

This barrage of unhelpful social media also clogs up your newsfeed, shoving the important details further and further from the top.  You know, like the funeral arrangements and times, photo's of your child, memories...not helpful. Then, in our ultimate wisdom, we decide it would be best to stop mentioning their child's name, after all, why remind them?  It will help them move on, and truth be told, it's awkward for us, and quite frankly, we act a little shocked when they bring said child's name into the conversation. How positively uncomfortable! Now it's so quiet we can hear a pin drop!  Can't we all just pretend that it never happened? We may even be so bold as to suggest a timeline for their grief, for goodness sakes! After all, I lost my 96-year-old grandmother, and I know EXACTLY how it feels! You don't see me turning down coffee dates!  I've managed to hold it together!  You've had a year!

Sound familiar?  I hope not, but I also know for the bereaved parent, it's all too familiar. You've unfortunately joined an awful club, against your will, and honestly, try as we might, I think it's going to be absolutely impossible to ever explain to the "Joneses" just how horrible the club is. Unless you've experienced it, there simply are no words.  But we keep trying...maybe we, the bereaved, are the only ones who actually read these posts. I've certainly gotten to the point where I'm asking other BP's (Bereaved Parents) "What's the worst thing that's been said to you and what's your trigger cliche?" I'm always horrified by what I hear.  

So, let's get down to business here. Maybe I'll put my sarcasm away;) Let's switch gears and try to give some insight into what's helpful and what is not. I should add a disclaimer here that these thoughts and ideas are off the top of my head and have been typed in irritability, exasperation, and on the eve of month 7, after hearing several stories about other BP's grief journeys.

1. All pain/loss is NOT the same.  You cannot compare losses.  Every single relationship is different, every person is different, every broken heart is different.  I will say this:  If you wouldn't trade your pain for mine - then you don't know what it's like or how I feel.  Because I would gladly take your chronic pain, your cancer diagnosis, your bankruptcy, your loss of limb, divorce, locust plague, or pretty much any other disaster that has befallen you, to have my son back.  His life meant more to me than mine. I would have traded places with him 10,000 times.  I would have taken his pain, his addiction, his nightmares - all of it. Because that's what mother's do. So, please, don't tell me you know how I feel unless your willing to offer up one of your own children in the bargain.  And if you are, you don't deserve them. Go get help.  (I see the sarcasm stayed . . .sorry).  

2.  Do not tell the bereaved parent how hard this whole thing is on YOU, especially if you aren't inquiring as to how THEY are doing. True story. I literally had a young mom share with me a couple things she's been told and that have happened to her, and I literally couldn't sleep.  It's okay to share in the pain, to come alongside it, especially if you are immediate family/super close to the family - but for heaven's sakes people, don't put your pain above the pain that the child's mother and father are in! Where is your compassion? Give the poor mom and dad a break!  They need to be carefully tended. They don't need to hear how you are suffering from the loss of THEIR child! 

3.  Remember their child.  Say their name. Don't act like nothing has happened and all is status quo! Tell the bereaved parents how you miss their precious child or remind them of something cute or funny they said or did or how sweet or kind they were.  Maybe share something they didn't know, or would appreciate hearing now. Never share with them something bad or something that will make them feel worse. Send them a random picture, or a note about something you remembered. Someone sent a picture last week, and it was so appreciated. Another shared a voicemail she had kept. Someone else connected with me last week via Facebook - she knew John, but she doesn't know me.  It was great to hear about him through her eyes.  How funny and helpful he had been, and how he had introduced her to some new friends.  Another observant lady asked me out to lunch and then she told me how special our mother/son relationship looked to her, how close she could tell we must have been, what she noticed from looking at our pictures. Yes, of course, it made me cry, but how good was it to talk about him and to hear her insight.  I also love hearing about how John shows up in the nighttime dreams of his friends, or his sister, and how people notice little things that remind them of him.  Or that they wore their Sheepdog T-Shirt in his honor.

4.  Don't take things personally and try to understand if we aren't up to a night out or certain events.  In my prior life, I was used to saying: "Yes, I'd love too!",  to whatever came my way.  But now, I think...what were you thinking?? There will be a hundred people there that you know! How much faking can you possibly do in one night? What if something triggers the loss, or several people approach you and want to talk about him? Worse yet, what if no one says anything and completely ignores the loss, and quite possibly avoids you altogether?  Or they just look at you funny - and you pick up on that weird vibe? What a juxtaposition we BP's live daily! So, we rescind on the invite. We've also pretty much stopped handing them out.  Frankly, we don't feel like the type of people you'd want to hang around, and while the rest of the world assumes you have plenty of friends and support, you are getting used to being alone. We want to be normal, really we do. But we aren't.  It's not you, it's me:)

5.  Stop wondering when we are going to get over it.  And for the love of all things good, don't ever ASK that! Not helpful. Can you seriously look at your beautiful children and believe that if one of them was taken from you, that you would get over it? That you would move on? That you would ever be okay again? Huge misconception. There is a reason child loss is a parent's worst nightmare. Just making up a will for the "in case" levels you to tears - am I right?  How about living with the reality every day?  Only you aren't leaving them, they've left you, and you have your entire life to miss them, yearn for them, deal with the pain of it.

6.  Realize that we aren't the same people anymore.  We are carrying around an extremely large burden - and we never put it down. We lug that damn elephant with us everywhere we go.  And it's exhausting.  Everything we hear or see is filtered through "the loss". That makes us extra sensitive. Often irritable.  Always lonely.  However, doing those "fun" things we used to do with you just might not hold the same joy or significance. I think high school sports would crush me. Anything military?  No thanks.  Not today.  We also may not be up to "entertaining" you. Too long of a visit, too deep of a conversation, especially about your troubles, may be overwhelming.  We may need to be alone. We get tired easily. Keep in mind, if we are receptive to your requests to get together, by all means, keep asking.  If we are not, we may need some time, please be respectful. But don't give up on us.

7.  Sometimes the load gets too heavy for us to manage.  For instance, it's not always just the loss that we are dealing with.  In many cases, we have other children to attend to, jobs, other life crises, extended family, and all those hard details that come along with a loss. In my case, add a terminal cancer diagnosis with my father and a trial, where we are expected to testify. Hard stuff. This takes an enormous amount of my energy and thoughts. And grief brain is real. I have a hard time thinking and wading through this fog. We are sorry that we aren't shouldering our load - but when I listen to others say it took them a year to go back to church, or seven years to leave the house, or 17 years have passed and that mom's broken heart is still completely broken, I feel relieved.  I am not behind schedule.  There is no schedule.  And telling me to throw myself into volunteer work - not helpful.  Praying for us-very helpful.

8.  Guarding our hearts.  I was told early on that I needed to be very careful who I let into my grief. That while people want to be helpful, they aren't always. That my heart can get even more hurt and more broken than it is already. I listened to that advice, and I took it to heart.  However, no matter how careful you are, people are still going to hurt you.  And it's . . . not helpful. Be diligent about your heart, and people, please be kind.  BP's - I have found that my best support system is other BP's. If you can, connect with and meet regularly with others who truly understand what you are going through.

Another thing that you have to be careful of is the "God told me" people. Sometimes, our amazing Heavenly Father truly is using other people to speak into your life. To send you a word, a book, a comforting thought, or a connection to someone that might help you on your path. But not always. Sometimes, the well-meaning people are not hearing it from the Lord, they are just thinking it themselves. This is where you need discernment. If something feels really wrong to you, or it doesn't give you peace - it's okay to question and ask the Father to make it clear to you.  If it does not feel right, friend, you just leave it right there.  Don't pick it up and put it on. It's not for you. Not all people get the right to speak into your life.  You get to say no.  And please, let the Father pour into you. Seek His face.  He is our strength.

9.  Ask.  Sometimes, you need to check in and see how the BP's are doing. To go weeks at a time without any acknowledgment of "the loss", can, at times, feel very isolating and confusing. Seriously, it's right here standing next to you and I as we chat. He's right here.  A few weeks ago, someone asked me how my day was.  I decided to respond honestly, which is a departure from my "pat" answer - which is where I say "good" and never mean it.  But no, I was truthful. I thought it was a "sincere ask".  I could have used a friend to bounce some sadness off of.  I said it was crappy.  And it was a very crappy day.  She walked away.  Not helpful.

On the flip side, when we show up at the church we've recently been attending, the pastor greets us with a hug and a sincere inquiry as to how things are going, how he can help, and we know he means it.  He's honest.  He tells us he doesn't know how to ask or how to help, that he hasn't experienced it firsthand, but he's not going to stop asking. And frankly, I hope he doesn't. Some weeks he's the only one that inquires. I might cry every single Sunday that I'm there, but that hug and that compassion, they speak volumes to our broken hearts.  He didn't know our son, and he didn't know us before our loss, but he sure knows God's son and how to be his hands and feet.

10.  Facebook Friends. While the ambulances were still in our driveway, I got a Facebook friend request from someone in our tiny community.  I don't think it was random.  I declined.  Talk about poor timing.  I'm also the legacy administrator for my son's account.  Here are some do's and don'ts.  

• Don't add me because you want to sell me something. 
• Don't be an ambulance chaser.  
• Don't ask to follow my son and expect me to hit to the "add friend" button on your name if you are friends with the defendant in the upcoming trial.  
• Do befriend people while they are living. 
• Don't wait until they are dead and add them because you are curious.  
• Do send me a message first with the reason for your friend request, because I don't like to unfriend people. But I might. 
• Do connect if you have something you want to share with me about my son, or you want to read the blog or keep up to date on how we are doing.  
• Don't add me and then instantly enter me into a sales group.  Not helpful.  Actually, don't add me to any groups. 
• Don't make jokes about loss, drug use, or be insensitive to a BP.  If we tell you that something hurts, please take it down.
• Be mindful that the family is reading posts too, be careful what you say.
• Never post about a death before the family has formally announced it on the social media page.  So very not helpful.

Well, I'm exhausted, how about you?  I could go on and on.  Was this helpful?  Not helpful?  What's your trigger cliche?    Do you have anything to add to the list?  Please feel free to post what has been helpful as a BP during this terrible time in your life.  We can all use some helpful suggestions.