I was reading this article by Sylvia Boorstein in the Shambhala Sun the other day, talking about how striking up a conversation with a stranger and being truly interested in what they say can lead to unexpected insights. So she spoke with a woman on a flight from San Francisco from new York, and that woman was claustrophobic and was on her way to attend the funeral of her brother-in-law. (She said, “I’m not embarrassed. Everyone has something. I have claustrophobia.”) She also revealed that her eldest brother was killed in the war in the Pacific when he was 17, and that it was terrible for both her parents and that she felt they both never got over it. When her siblings grew up they started a foundation that puts kids in some of the small Solomon Islands to school.
Boorstein said that encounter reminded her of her mother’s advice to her when she left for college: Be interested in other people…. pay attention. Don’t pretend. Be really interested.
That advice really was from a mother who wanted her daughter to be loved by others. I think it’s good advice on how to be a human being. It could also serve as good advice on how to be a friend to a bereaved.
You see, many people are afraid to be really interested after a child has died. They don’t want to go near it. Don’t want that reminder of their mortality and the mortality of their own children. Don’t want to hear about the sadness, the dealing with grief, the darkness of it all. Don’t want to listen for the umpteenth time the horror and the craziness. They are not sure what to say, and are afraid of appearing like an idiot. Grief is like one of those dark, narrow tunnels dirty and stinking, appearing along life’s path and no one wants to wander down one of those, hoping to postpone that experience for as long as possible. I guess I don’t blame them.
It’s not easy to be really interested in the bereaved. It’s not a fun hing to do and presents no rewards. So I say thank you to all those who pay attention, ask questions, sit around (but do not expect to be entertained) and be really interested and do not expect a medal, or dessert for not leaving the room at the very first possibility.
The thing is, being really interested in a bereaved is not much different in being really interested in any other person. That’s what I think. Like that woman on the plane said- everyone has something. We all require someone to be patient with us and listen. We all could use help and compassion from time to time. We are all dealing with life, with living, even if we have had to deal with death. Everyone runs into crap at some point and could use some encouragement, empathy and just genuine interest in our plights. If you are truly interested in being a friend, it is not hard to be really interested in what your friend has to say.
For Boorstein, her conversations with strangers and being really interested in what they have to say have lead to unexpected insights. I am not sure what insights the bereaved have to offer to the really interested. At least I know I do not have much to offer except the struggles and the reality of what it is like to have to experience this.
But reading Boorstein’s article reminds me to be really interested, to be genuinely interested, to be humble and truly interested, because there is still so much to learn.
Great post Janis, thank you.
Everyone has something. Totally hits the nail on the head, Janis. i agree. Grief is an idiocyncratic part of the personality. Unfortunately. I mean, some of us have it alongside other “quirks”, but grief is part of our personality, and really embodies and touches on so many other experiences and stories. I have a friend who talk incessantly about the trials of her home being renovated. That is her thing.
Maybe today, as we head to the zoo, I will try to teach Bea to be very interested in the other people we encounter. With much love.
Janis, another wonderful post! I had a friend just the other day ask what she should say to a family who had lost a child, and I really thought about it (I know there are lists of such things out there), and it came to me that after Sage died, it wasn’t so much what people said, but the quality of their presence when they were with me. When people are attentive and interested, then whatever needs to happen in the conversation will. There is no formula for responding to someone’s grief because grief is ever-morphing and varied.
I so enjoy your writing.
Much care,
Jessie
So true and usually so easy to do. What a great reminder to everyone to open up a little and see what and who is out there.
Right on.
I am struck by the beautiful simplicity of ‘all that is needed’ from us, as one human to another, is to be there – be present for eachother, as Jessie has commented. I lost my first child, our daughter Jasmine, full term, Feb this year. As a littl etime has elapsed now, one of the most difficult issues I am finding is the silence of others and their inability to connect by being interested and asking how I am since Jasmine died. Very few people will ever mention Jasmine’s name, particularly at my place of work, which I found very hurtful in the beginning. I suppose I am now at a point of starting to understand this soul sickness and just how powerful and healing it is to share a little of ourselves with another, particularly when this level of trauma strikes. My understanding also brings a deeper level of sadness that this is how the majority of humans are taught to ‘function’ and consequently miss out on a baeutiful depth to life that only ‘being interested’ can bring.
Thank you for your lovely comments.
Dawn, I am so sorry about your Jasmine. I wish people around you will allow you to talk about her more often, to genuinely want to know and understand.
Wishing you peace… xo