What I do is what worked for me during my own times of grief: just show up. Words are less important than “being there”. The Jewish tradition is to sit with the grieved without talking. Bringing food, holding hands, helping with everyday chores.
My first grief counselors were US Marines at the American Embassy in Ethiopia where my family was stationed when my father died in a plane crash. They had me (at age 7) raise the flag in the am and lower at sunset - with the associated ritual.
Jumping forward 55 years, when my adult son passed in his sleep, we started each day with making the bed, Qi Gong, blended tea making, following the BCP prayer routine and lectionary (prescribed readings). Also being with visiting friends and family. Finding and organizing photos, telling stories, preparing for a celebration of life - we took our time (2 months. We are all musicians, so selecting and preparing music for the celebration were important and helpful. Involving and engaging family my son’s friends in the celebration were important for avoiding isolation. All this was important to “being here now” and connected.
I’ve been on the downside of this. Within three months I had to move from the house I’d lived in for 5+ years, I had cancer and had a radical hysterectomy, and my 6 year old son died after a year of having heart issues. There is a numbness that takes over your body and fills your mind after the shock wears off. I only managed to fumble my way through life by having a partner who supported me and talked when I needed to hear, and listened when I needed to talk.
I am surprised you haven’t experienced such deep, gut-wrenching sorrow yourself as you have written about it so profoundly. You nailed it, Kimbra, and I thank you for sharing this piece.
I've lost my grandfather abruptly to stage IV cancer and my mom was diagnosed with stage IIIc cancer, all within the past 6 months. It's been very tough.
Things like this help me to know that I'm not alone, and that people are trying. Thank you so much.
This really hits home, having been living on those edges & now close family committed for their own safety... Your essay highlights the magical word "sense" which in English means a wide spectrum of experience, as well as the condition/meaning of the current reality, which these days seems to be predominantly "non-sense"... thank you for being here
Thank you for this. It is just what I needed to hear today, as I struggle to write a bereavement letter to the widow of a dear friend. Her husband is recovering from a stroke, and my friend was away preparing to bury her brother. She went to bed two days after he passed, but never woke up. She was a vibrant, healthy, 63-year old woman who held the family together, along with her community and groups that benefited from her leadership. What can I say?
You understand more than you realise Kimbra. As you so beautifully wrote, it’s not about what you say, there’s nothing to be said. It’s about just being there.
Grief is a strange companion. At first it seems like a huge monster you have to carry on your back and you think it will break you. You almost want it to. Then slowly you adjust to the load. It’s still a lot to carry, and you’re exhausted and think it’s all too much but then again it changes. Or you do.
One day, you wake up and realise grief is now just a part of you. Not an overwhelming part, but something you can live with and learn to accommodate. You’re not friends…but somehow you know each other. And you’re…comfortable. Enough to weather the next round of grief: it’s coming whether you like it or not.
Listening. As a pastor, I have learned that listening to people share their anger, frustration, shock, fear, lack of understanding, and memories is very therapeutic for them. Nothing we can say will make the pain go away. But we can be a listening ear who, as my wife likes to say, "walks it out" with them. As Solomon said, there is a time to listen and a time to speak. (Ecc 3:7)
Everyone grieves differently, I remember hearing that a lot before I had a death in my close family. I always wondered how I would deal with it when it actually happened. When my mom passed away suddenly of a heart attack right in front of me I knew if I held in that whole experience I'd go crazy. I am so grateful for everyone that listened to me after. Going to work (I work at a College) and being around people also helped keep my mind busy shortly after her death. I miss my mom everyday and get emotional whenever I hear or see something that she liked. But instead of keeping it all in and acting like how I perceived people around my age and older should act , I've learned that there are plenty of 30 and 40 something year old people like me that want to share their experiences as well.
Thank you for sharing this. Grief takes so much, it’s helpful to be reminded of the possibility for beauty within it. If we can be still enough to be open to that.
My husband just experienced his mother passing a couple of days ago. A your words arrived at the perfect time for us to process the event from a different perspective. Thank you, you really helped us and thank you for sharing your experience.
What I do is what worked for me during my own times of grief: just show up. Words are less important than “being there”. The Jewish tradition is to sit with the grieved without talking. Bringing food, holding hands, helping with everyday chores.
My first grief counselors were US Marines at the American Embassy in Ethiopia where my family was stationed when my father died in a plane crash. They had me (at age 7) raise the flag in the am and lower at sunset - with the associated ritual.
Jumping forward 55 years, when my adult son passed in his sleep, we started each day with making the bed, Qi Gong, blended tea making, following the BCP prayer routine and lectionary (prescribed readings). Also being with visiting friends and family. Finding and organizing photos, telling stories, preparing for a celebration of life - we took our time (2 months. We are all musicians, so selecting and preparing music for the celebration were important and helpful. Involving and engaging family my son’s friends in the celebration were important for avoiding isolation. All this was important to “being here now” and connected.
This is so beautiful.
Kimbra,
I didn't realize that one of your songs was "Somebody That I Used to Know"...
Your music is amazing!!!
I lost my youngest son [one of six] in 2018...he was 38 and left behind a beautiful wife and daughter.
Then my husband of 36 years died last June 2022.
He was a strong, vibrant, big kind man who blessed my life [and others] every single day.
One of my friends told me about two months ago, that when her husband died and left her with 5 small children that "her life ended".
[side note...I was there with her when it happened, even though she is much younger than me]
It was like an understanding came over me.
That is what happens.
Your life ends and you don't move ON, you move forward with a new one.
Your words are inspirational to me.
I have realized that when someone has a loss you must find a way to say something with empathy and just cry with them and hold them.
Thank you for all that you take time to say, and the music that you make.
I believe that Our Heavenly Father uses us as vessels to bring forth beauty to others.
Gratitude=Resilience!
I’ve been on the downside of this. Within three months I had to move from the house I’d lived in for 5+ years, I had cancer and had a radical hysterectomy, and my 6 year old son died after a year of having heart issues. There is a numbness that takes over your body and fills your mind after the shock wears off. I only managed to fumble my way through life by having a partner who supported me and talked when I needed to hear, and listened when I needed to talk.
I am surprised you haven’t experienced such deep, gut-wrenching sorrow yourself as you have written about it so profoundly. You nailed it, Kimbra, and I thank you for sharing this piece.
I've lost my grandfather abruptly to stage IV cancer and my mom was diagnosed with stage IIIc cancer, all within the past 6 months. It's been very tough.
Things like this help me to know that I'm not alone, and that people are trying. Thank you so much.
This really hits home, having been living on those edges & now close family committed for their own safety... Your essay highlights the magical word "sense" which in English means a wide spectrum of experience, as well as the condition/meaning of the current reality, which these days seems to be predominantly "non-sense"... thank you for being here
Thank you for this. It is just what I needed to hear today, as I struggle to write a bereavement letter to the widow of a dear friend. Her husband is recovering from a stroke, and my friend was away preparing to bury her brother. She went to bed two days after he passed, but never woke up. She was a vibrant, healthy, 63-year old woman who held the family together, along with her community and groups that benefited from her leadership. What can I say?
Female? Tell her that she is loved by you.
Don't say that they are in a better place.
It may be true, but is not helpful at the beginning.
Express love, love, love!
Say that you would sit with them in silence if needed.
Say you would cry tears with them if needed.
I send this to all my friends who are grieving. The way you crafted this piece was perfection.
That means a lot.
You understand more than you realise Kimbra. As you so beautifully wrote, it’s not about what you say, there’s nothing to be said. It’s about just being there.
Grief is a strange companion. At first it seems like a huge monster you have to carry on your back and you think it will break you. You almost want it to. Then slowly you adjust to the load. It’s still a lot to carry, and you’re exhausted and think it’s all too much but then again it changes. Or you do.
One day, you wake up and realise grief is now just a part of you. Not an overwhelming part, but something you can live with and learn to accommodate. You’re not friends…but somehow you know each other. And you’re…comfortable. Enough to weather the next round of grief: it’s coming whether you like it or not.
Listening. As a pastor, I have learned that listening to people share their anger, frustration, shock, fear, lack of understanding, and memories is very therapeutic for them. Nothing we can say will make the pain go away. But we can be a listening ear who, as my wife likes to say, "walks it out" with them. As Solomon said, there is a time to listen and a time to speak. (Ecc 3:7)
Everyone grieves differently, I remember hearing that a lot before I had a death in my close family. I always wondered how I would deal with it when it actually happened. When my mom passed away suddenly of a heart attack right in front of me I knew if I held in that whole experience I'd go crazy. I am so grateful for everyone that listened to me after. Going to work (I work at a College) and being around people also helped keep my mind busy shortly after her death. I miss my mom everyday and get emotional whenever I hear or see something that she liked. But instead of keeping it all in and acting like how I perceived people around my age and older should act , I've learned that there are plenty of 30 and 40 something year old people like me that want to share their experiences as well.
Whoa! Recently lost a friend, a friendship itself, unexpectedly came my daughter’s greatest love, her husband, death.
I walked through your words with tear filled senses.... in fact they still are tear filled now.
Stunning soulful piece. Thank you
Thank you for sharing this. Grief takes so much, it’s helpful to be reminded of the possibility for beauty within it. If we can be still enough to be open to that.
Good. Yes. And don't drop out after a month. Grief lives forever and has a way of sneakin' in
the side door to seize your life again.....
My husband just experienced his mother passing a couple of days ago. A your words arrived at the perfect time for us to process the event from a different perspective. Thank you, you really helped us and thank you for sharing your experience.
Grief becomes a part from whole and this part will become centre and out of which new whole emerges... its still there in the middle of the busy life.
“Be not afraid!”
Motto of “the Polish pope” (survivor of WW II) - Pope Saint John Paul II!