Since the day that Nic died, I’ve
semi-joked about writing a book entitled “You did NOT just say that” about
things people say to those who are grieving. But recently, I’ve decided that
this really might be helpful information to put out there, because no one
really KNOWS what to do or say in this sort of situation. So this is my attempt
at sharing the things that have been helpful (and not so helpful) in the past
months. (P.S. I’m not trying to call anyone out on anything – please know that
I know anything you’ve attempted to say or do for me was done out of love and
compassion.) I’ve contemplated actually publishing this, because I know there’s
a chance that someone is going to be offended or get their feelings hurt by
this and because I’m being painfully honest and vulnerable in this. Please
remember that this whole thing is MY opinion – do with it what you will!
Section 1: Things NOT to Say or Do (particularly to survivors of suicide)
- “This was just God’s will.” Okay, first of all that’s not comforting ever. But Nic didn’t die by accident. He made a choice. And while I believe with ALL my heart that God works all things together for good, I don’t think this was what He wanted or willed for Nic’s life. And in the depths of tragedy and heartache, cliché things like this just make it more painful than it already is. (Also in this category, things like: “He’s in a better place now.” – I don’t want him in a better place – I want him HERE, “Heaven has a new angel.” “He’s gone to be with Jesus.” “He’s in a better place now.” “You’ll get to see him again one day.”)
- “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.” I started to make this one a subsection of the previous bullet, but then I decided it deserved it’s own line. First of all, I don’t think that statement is true. I think that God gives us more than we can handle on our own so that our only choice is to rely on Him. BUT GOD DIDN’T DO THIS. GOD DIDN’T “GIVE” THIS TO ME. Nic made a CHOICE.
- “I know how you feel.” You don’t. Even if the EXACT same thing happened to you, you don’t know how I feel. Please don’t tell me you do. Instead, try things like, “I can’t even imagine.”
- “He was such a good kid.” He was. You’re right. But this makes it sound like only “bad” kids commit suicide. This can happen to ANYONE! It’s not only kids who look or act a certain way.
- “This was so unexpected.” Duh. I am very much aware of that. I did not expect it either.
- “I’m here if you want to talk.” I know this comes from a good and honest place, but if we have never talked about anything more than what we had for breakfast, I probably don’t want to talk to you about this. HOWEVER, that being said, this is different than things like, “Hey I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I heard what happened and I’m really sorry.” That is actually quite meaningful and appreciated.
- “It’ll be okay.” Again, YOU DON’T KNOW THAT. And by saying this, you’re invalidating my feelings of not being anywhere near okay.
- “How are you doing?” To be fair, this question becomes more acceptable as more time passes. But in the first days and weeks afterwards, the answer to that question is pretttyyy obvious. And chances are good of you getting a snarky response from me (my apologies to anyone I actually did that to). Also, if I run in to you in the grocery store, at work, etc, chances are good that’s not the place I’m going to want to or feel comfortable admitting how I am really feeling.
- “Just remember the good times with Nic.” Yes, I have 17 years’ worth of awesome memories with Nic. But remembering those doesn’t automatically take the pain away. In fact, some days it makes it worse. Saying this makes it seem like you’re dismissing the present pain.
- “Did he leave a note? How did he do it? Etc.” This is super personal information, first of all. Second of all, how does that help? He did it. Isn’t that enough? It makes it feel like you are de-personalizing (is that even a word??) what happened.
- “Let me know what I can do.” Let me be honest with you. I can hardly remember who came through our house in those first days, let alone people who sent me emails or messages. I know you genuinely do want to help, but leave your information with a family member or friend so that once the dust settles and we really do need you, we can remember who said what. Be sure to specify what you can help with – food, housing for family members, etc. (shout out to Karla Wade and Kristen “Christian” Murray who helped us with all of this!!! Love you friends J)
- Other cliché’s such as, “Hug lots of people because everytime you hug someone, a little of the pain goes away.” Okay wow. Yes, someone really said this. And yes, I quite love hugs. Especially from people who are helping me bear this load right now. But that doesn’t make the pain “go away”. Think before you speak. Silence or “I don’t know what to say” is SO much better than cliché’s!
- Telling me about every person you ever knew that committed suicide. Not helpful. If you are telling me about your best friend or dear relative, I’m willing to listen. But your grandma’s best friend’s cousin? Not helping. I do however think that it’s important to be open and honest about our stories, and so I genuinely did appreciate people who told me things like, “This happened to me and it really, really sucks right now. But please know that…eventually…it gets better.”
- Suggestions of how I should be feeling or responding, such as, “you have every right to be mad” when I have not made one comment about being mad.
Section 1: Things NOT to Say or Do (particularly to survivors of suicide)
- “This was just God’s will.” Okay, first of all that’s not comforting ever. But Nic didn’t die by accident. He made a choice. And while I believe with ALL my heart that God works all things together for good, I don’t think this was what He wanted or willed for Nic’s life. And in the depths of tragedy and heartache, cliché things like this just make it more painful than it already is. (Also in this category, things like: “He’s in a better place now.” – I don’t want him in a better place – I want him HERE, “Heaven has a new angel.” “He’s gone to be with Jesus.” “He’s in a better place now.” “You’ll get to see him again one day.”)
- “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.” I started to make this one a subsection of the previous bullet, but then I decided it deserved it’s own line. First of all, I don’t think that statement is true. I think that God gives us more than we can handle on our own so that our only choice is to rely on Him. BUT GOD DIDN’T DO THIS. GOD DIDN’T “GIVE” THIS TO ME. Nic made a CHOICE.
- “I know how you feel.” You don’t. Even if the EXACT same thing happened to you, you don’t know how I feel. Please don’t tell me you do. Instead, try things like, “I can’t even imagine.”
- “He was such a good kid.” He was. You’re right. But this makes it sound like only “bad” kids commit suicide. This can happen to ANYONE! It’s not only kids who look or act a certain way.
- “This was so unexpected.” Duh. I am very much aware of that. I did not expect it either.
- “I’m here if you want to talk.” I know this comes from a good and honest place, but if we have never talked about anything more than what we had for breakfast, I probably don’t want to talk to you about this. HOWEVER, that being said, this is different than things like, “Hey I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I heard what happened and I’m really sorry.” That is actually quite meaningful and appreciated.
- “It’ll be okay.” Again, YOU DON’T KNOW THAT. And by saying this, you’re invalidating my feelings of not being anywhere near okay.
- “How are you doing?” To be fair, this question becomes more acceptable as more time passes. But in the first days and weeks afterwards, the answer to that question is pretttyyy obvious. And chances are good of you getting a snarky response from me (my apologies to anyone I actually did that to). Also, if I run in to you in the grocery store, at work, etc, chances are good that’s not the place I’m going to want to or feel comfortable admitting how I am really feeling.
- “Just remember the good times with Nic.” Yes, I have 17 years’ worth of awesome memories with Nic. But remembering those doesn’t automatically take the pain away. In fact, some days it makes it worse. Saying this makes it seem like you’re dismissing the present pain.
- “Did he leave a note? How did he do it? Etc.” This is super personal information, first of all. Second of all, how does that help? He did it. Isn’t that enough? It makes it feel like you are de-personalizing (is that even a word??) what happened.
- “Let me know what I can do.” Let me be honest with you. I can hardly remember who came through our house in those first days, let alone people who sent me emails or messages. I know you genuinely do want to help, but leave your information with a family member or friend so that once the dust settles and we really do need you, we can remember who said what. Be sure to specify what you can help with – food, housing for family members, etc. (shout out to Karla Wade and Kristen “Christian” Murray who helped us with all of this!!! Love you friends J)
- Other cliché’s such as, “Hug lots of people because everytime you hug someone, a little of the pain goes away.” Okay wow. Yes, someone really said this. And yes, I quite love hugs. Especially from people who are helping me bear this load right now. But that doesn’t make the pain “go away”. Think before you speak. Silence or “I don’t know what to say” is SO much better than cliché’s!
- Telling me about every person you ever knew that committed suicide. Not helpful. If you are telling me about your best friend or dear relative, I’m willing to listen. But your grandma’s best friend’s cousin? Not helping. I do however think that it’s important to be open and honest about our stories, and so I genuinely did appreciate people who told me things like, “This happened to me and it really, really sucks right now. But please know that…eventually…it gets better.”
- Suggestions of how I should be feeling or responding, such as, “you have every right to be mad” when I have not made one comment about being mad.
- Pity. Don't feel sorry FOR me. I know this really really sucks. But I don't need your pity. If you want to feel sorry WITH me, to greive with me, to tell me how much it stinks, I would LOVE that. But please don't pity me!
--
Sending flowers. Flowers are pretty, but they
DIE and then its super depressing for the person who has to throw them away.
Plus, who has room for 30 bouquets of roses in their house??
- “I’m sorry.” It seems so simple, but it’s so much more helpful than all the things I listed in Section 1.
- “This really sucks.” This is helpful because it’s the TRUTH! It DOES suck. Thank you for acknowledging this fact and for validating my feelings. It’s okay to agree with me that this is really, really terrible. You don’t have to fix it or make it better.
- “I don’t know what to say.” Follow this up with a hug or just sitting with me, even in the heavily awkward silence. This statement is so honest and real and feels better to me than cliché’s. And don’t be afraid to cry with me. It’s okay for you to cry too. It hurts.
- “I love you.” Only say this if you do love me. Don’t be a creeper. Haha. But seriously, there are days in the darkness of this tragedy that I feel super-duper unlovable. Having people remind me that I AM in fact lovable is very helpful.
- “Whatever you’re feeling? That’s okay.” I think that this was one of the MOST helpful things that was said to me. Because I was feeling a LOT of things (still am feeling a lot of things) and the reminder that it was okay was helpful.
- “Whenever you’re ready” or “Only if you want to.” There were (and still are) times I simply wasn’t feeling up to going somewhere or doing something, especially if it related to Nic. But I have a hard time saying no, so adding those words on to the invitation gave me an out if I needed it.
- Sharing sweet and funny stories about Nic.
- Remind me that you haven’t forgotten – that you think of me from time to time. That you remember Nic. Because the longer it has been, the more it feels like people forget.
- Food. Food is always good. Send food, send gift cards to restaurants, all of those things. Because it gives one less thing to worry about…but you should check with the family first – we ended up with WAY to much food in the beginning! Send what my mom calls “cupboard casserole” – all the ingredients for something that they can just quickly throw together, but that doesn’t require much freezer/fridge space.
- Send paper products, tissues, toilet paper, coffee. There will be lots of people in and out of the house, and these things run out quickly.
- Offer to do household chores – walk the dog, clean the bathrooms, mow the lawn.
Here’s the most wonderful and the most terrible thing about tragedy: life goes on. Which is a painful thing for the people most intimately involved in such tragedy. It feels like people forget – like they move on or get over it. But for those of us in the depths of this storm, the shore feels really far away. Someone recently explained it to me using Hurricane Katrina. When the storm first hit, there were fundraisers everywhere, every other night there was a telethon on TV. But now, people have moved on. But there are people who are still devastated by the effects of the hurricane. For those of us in this hurricane, it’s not about “moving on” or “getting over it”. It’s about learning to live with the way life is now. Learning to live this life to the fullest. And that is a really, really hard thing to learn.
Lots of people offer to hang out or things like that. This helps, but to be honest I’m not the most social person lately. And it doesn’t help that I have been super busy. My social interactions are limited to my inner circle for the most part. But please don’t think that your offers don’t matter or that I won’t eventually take you up on them. (Side note – Don’t take this to mean that this isn’t what the rest of my family wants!)The most meaningful things? The cards people have sent me, particularly within the last month. There’s something about someone taking the time to write a card and stick it in the mailbox that just seems so meaningful.
There are good days and bad days. If you ask me how I’m doing, some moments I might say “good” and some I might say “bad”. Neither of these is a lie or untruth. They just speak of how I feel in that moment. If anything in this blog offended you or hurt your feelings, I’m sorry. But these things are honest and I’m in a desperate search for honesty in my life right now. Know that I am well aware that whatever you may have said or done for me was done in love and I appreciated it.
P.S. I love you Nic.
