death, be not an asshole
I was musing, this week, on the coincidence of three friends concurrently going through some sad, hard, death-related things, when, today: wham! Make it four friends.
And WHAM, just now: me. Just got the news that someone I know and love just died — what? the fuck?
Death and disaster need to be given a sedative and sent away; just for a little while, please. But oh no. That’s not the way it works. One can only gird oneself, trying not feel that deep and unpleasant shock every time that stupid becloaked jack-in-the-box jumps out.
When you lose someone, I’m never going to be the one who tells you that it is all for the better. The words “closure” or “healing” will not be uttered by me. I’m not the one to talk to when you need to be painted a pretty vision of your loved one walking hand in hand with your flavor of saviour.
I’m going to be the one to agree with you about how much it fucking sucks. And, when you’re ready, tell you maybe there’s something less heavy and maybe even something approachable (and free of bad juju) about it, the whole death/loss experience. And when you tell me to shut up and go away, I do so, as I know it’s different for everyone, and it changes every second.
This is all stuff that American Grieving 101 tends not to teach you. It’s a horrible class and I wish someone would rewrite the lesson plan.
American grieving 101. Yes! They also need a “What to do if you are a friend of one who is grieving 101” class. And a 102 class, and a 103 class. Or, for those of us who are lazy, at the very least, cliff’s notes with the title, “What not to say to a friend who is grieving.”