Loading mercury with a pitchfork
your truck is almost full. The neighbors
take a certain pride in you. They
stand around watching.
your truck is almost full. The neighbors
take a certain pride in you. They
stand around watching.
-Richard Brautigan
Mercury is difficult to handle
(especially with a pitchfork, as Richard Brautigan understood), and dangerous
as well. The potential for damage to yourself or others recommends we avoid it
if at all possible.
That’s how many of us feel
about talking to the bereaved. And so we opt for silence. I hope to change
that.
A good friend,
socially-adept, mutually acquainted with a couple enduring incredible distress,
explained again last week that he had not called or visited them. “I don’t know
what I would say,” was his well-reasoned motivation. Others have felt the need
to say something, anything, and with unfortunate results. Those facing great
difficulties, especially bereavement (“having experienced a significant loss,
usually through the death of a loved one”), hear some truly amazing things.
If our words might be
damaging, then silence should be the safer choice…except that it’s deadly. The
echo of the past often deafens those in grief and mourning, disabling them from
hearing a balance of the valued relationship and the reality of its loss. It
helps to speak aloud past memories, along with today’s grief. But if all their
friends are more fearful of speaking than they are of silence, they sit alone, searching
for signs of continuity in their lives.
For a moment, imagine
yourself speaking to a friend who has experienced a significant loss—and as you
realize that you don’t know what you might say, consider also that silence is
among the least effective alternatives. “But I might say the wrong thing.” Yes.
That’s very true. In fact, those who are sure they know “the right thing to
say” are often oblivious to how wrong they are. So, I would like to offer you
two tools I find helpful.
Since one of the most helpful
activities of mourning is reminiscence, the first tool is to simply go and listen. Simple questions are most helpful in starting the process. I
serve many bereaved individuals and families. Most of them I am meeting for the
very first time in the midst of one of their least-social moments. I ask, “What
should I know about your circumstances that would help me serve you best?” For closer
friends, I have asked, “What have you found yourself thinking about?” or “What
are you feeling today?” (Remember, “How are you feeling?” suggests they tell
us, “Fine, thanks.”) It doesn’t take much to start the conversation.
Second, though, since even
when we’re committed to asking simple questions and then simply listening,
there are so many things that sound so right…until we actually say them. I have
found it helpful to catalog “The Wrong Things to Say.” So, if it helps motivate
you to go and listen, then I’ll gladly share that list with you, so that you at
least have a map of as much of the mine-field of well-intentioned platitudes as
I’ve discovered so far. (I just learned a new one last Friday. It’s a beaut!
You’ll find it at the end of the list.)
‘Til then, I remain…
Your servant for Jesus’ sake
(II
Corinthians 4:5),
Wm. Darius Myers, Death
Pastor
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