<p>I had few friends who lost their parents, they told me about their parents’ passing and how they still missed their parents everyday. Their stories actually made me feel better. They made me feel it was normal and ok to miss and grieve for my father. Until my own dad passed away, I wouldn’t say I was insensitive to other parents’ passing, but I thought it was a rite of passage. When my father passed away, I felt a very deep lost and sadness. It was comforting for me to hear that others felt the same and shared their own experience with me. Everyone is different on how they want to be comforted at a time of great sadness. </p>
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<p>I cannot imagine how anyone could think that would be okay. I really have no words. </p>
<p>Two things strike me about this. One, it’s possible that there was nothing appropriate or comforting to say to you. It’s just an awful situation. “I’m so sorry” isn’t enough, and everything else seems like too much or inappropriate. People want to help, but there isn’t any help. In retrospect, you will appreciate them being there.</p>
<p>Two, it’s hard to get over this, and hard for the other people, too. Yes, they shouldn’t be working through their feelings in the middle of your loss, but don’t be too surprised if over the next few years you find yourself doing something similar, or wanting to.</p>
<p>It certainly is true that what one person wants, another may not. When my brother died, everyone wanted to hug me. The problem is that every hug turned on the waterworks, and I started to cry (again). And not just for the first few days… when I would meet up with people weeks later that I had not seen who had heard about his death, their first instinct was to give me a hug, and I would cry. It was almost Pavlovian… after a few days, I just said, “No, thanks, it will just make me cry. But thank you for the kind thoughts” when people wanted to hug me. Just saying, what works for one person doesn’t work for another. And no one really knows what another person would want in this situation.</p>
<p>Just a few weeks ago a dear friend from high school & college died unexpectedly, a few months after his wedding that I had traveled across the country to attend. I couldn’t attend the funeral, but after a few days I wrote his widow (whom I barely know, just met her at the wedding) a letter telling her a few stories about her husband from our high school days and describing why he was such a special friend. I gave it a lot of thought and edited a lot, trying to write something that I thought would give her some tiny amount of comfort at a terrible time. But no way of knowing if I struck the right note or not… we can’t even know if we are doing exactly the right thing, but to not show up and to not say anything seems much worse to me.</p>
<p>condolences… sorry <= That’s pretty much all I say. It drives me nuts when my wife starts talking about her mother’s last days when talking to folks whose parents have recently died. I also don’t suggest that it is a blessing, no matter how old the deceased is or how much they suffered. Seems to me you miss the deceased when they are gone, no matter how old they were. </p>
<p>I left the shiva after the Minya (services). I was teary, as was the couple. I visited this woman every week or so for months. she was so real to me. She truly believed that my son was named for 1 of her sons, who died trying to rescue his roommate from a fire. every one else was being social. I knew she was at peace, wanted no heroic measures, but I felt so sad. I found it just too hard to answer questions from former friends, e.g., how is my son? etc. I don’t know how the couple, who lost a parent, could cope. WHAT IS WONDERFUL IS THAT PEOPLE COME, SHOW THEIR RESPECT, their support. It is very hard to strike just the right note on a death of a friend or parent of a friend. we all just try.</p>
<p>Yes, I agree. I believe one simply needs to say “I am so sorry for your loss.” Period.</p>
<p>I recently mentioned the death of my mother two years ago to a colleague, who replied “yeah, I consider myself very lucky to still have both my parents”</p>
<p>This is a woman of over 50. I am 22. I found her response incredibly tasteless.</p>
<p>I don’t see that as a tasteless comment…</p>
<p>I’ve told people I lost my mother, and some said, “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine losing one of my parents.” And these are people my age, who most likely will lose their parents before too long.</p>
<p>It’s a hard thing. I remember waking up each day, feeling that it was so very strange to be alive and have no mother. </p>
<p>Condolences to all who’ve lost a parent. </p>
<p>I’m going to tell my own story, but I in no way want to diminish the OP’s loss. I’m so sorry for your loss and hope you find comfort. </p>
<p>When my mother died after a long and difficult illness, I sent a short email note to friends, neighbors, and close colleagues–not my closest friends, whom I called, but people who knew of her situation and had offered me much love and support over six years. Many of them also had aging parents, or their parents had died recently. In my note I told them a little bit about my mother’s life, because many of them only knew her through me during her last years. One colleague wrote to thank me for sharing my mom with her in this way. I think people really do not know what to say. Writing this note was comforting to me and gave them some sense of who my mother was. Most of them wrote back, some asked me more questions about her, and some even came to her memorial service. To be honest, I never minded that some shared their own stories. Being her primary caregiver was so hard that it always helped to know others understood.</p>
<p>I think grief is a very private thing in many ways. It is REALLY hard to know what to do and say. I’m sure I have done and said the wrong thing and many services though it was always well-intentioned. When it was our loved one who died (my grandparents, MIL, FIL, SisIL), I always appreciated whatever anyone said and was glad they attended and hoped their presence/condolences provided comfort to H & his family. I was pretty OK but it wasn’t my mom, dad or kid; I think those will hit much harder and we are never fully prepared.</p>
<p>It is good when folks who are grieving can help lead/guide us as to what is helpful and what they would prefer we do/not do. Absent that, I think we will just bumble along the best we can, trying to offer what help and support we can in our own ways.</p>
<p>OP, so sorry. Be kind to yourself over the coming weeks and months, and allow others to care for you. It gives people a purpose and direction in helping you in the way that you need.</p>
<p>No one loves you like your mom and dad. When they die, you’ve often times lost your biggest fans, best friends, and supporters. There are no words that take the sting away, of knowing the world is a lonelier place for their absence. That said, in the depths of grief, I found peace in the acts of kindness that just happened…my kids being brought home from school, or being invited over to play. The dinners that showed up without me asking. The phone calls to check in on me, asking what I needed from the store. People who just “did”. I didn’t need to think, which allowed me to grieve the loss without having to keep the family afloat. For some, this may not have worked. But for us, this group of friends and family kept us from dissolving into chaos. </p>
<p>OP - my condolences. I think I have bungled this conversation myself - will try to do better. </p>
<p>deega - great article - thanks for posting. The Kvetching Ring - brilliant.</p>
<p>What I have witnessed - both at funerals and at hospital situations - is people try to make comparisons to things they have gone through. If you have cancer, they tend to talk about others they know who have had cancer. Some are uplifting stories with happy endings and I guess those are told to inspire you, and some are sad stories with tragic endings, and I guess those are told to show you it could be worse! I’ve always noticed this tendency and perhaps sometimes people are just talking to fill the void and sometimes your situation is stirring up their old emotions. But they are there and trying to help, if awkwardly.</p>
<p>My take is that people say things but what matters is how we take them. I can’t read minds. I don’t know the intent of what’s said - most of the time. </p>
<p>Some people share things. Others say the wrong thing meaning to say the right thing. It’s how you take things that should matter to you. Note the “to you” because, really, it’s your life and your feelings.</p>
<p>An odd story. My father died and I was at his house in FL a few days later when the phone rang. It was an old neighbor from up north, an old friend of my dad’s. I figured he was calling to give condolences. We chatted for a few minutes and then he said, “It was great talking to you. Is your dad there? Maybe we can get out on the course while I’m in town.” I then had to tell him my dad had died … I heard the phone drop … thought I’d killed him. He was shattered. So sometimes you just can’t say the right thing. </p>
<p>dreaming92, I agree with you; that was a really insensitive comment.</p>
<p>I have a hard time with small talk, it sounds forced and artifical to me, so if my parents were alive, I very well might have been so insensitive as to say that I was happy to have my parents although I hope I would first express condolences.
Unfortunately however, my father died 39 yrs ago, and my mother died 5 yrs ago.
My fathers death was an accident, although my mother had been ill but recovering.
I pay more attention to what people do than what they say.</p>
<p>Thanks, @LasMa. It’s a bit like telling someone you’re really hungry, and them saying “oh, I’ve got this delicious pizza here that I’m going to eat all of”…</p>
<p>I think what some people have been trying to tactfully say is that even when you are grieving, it isn’t all about you. And that people are trying to say something helpful, but don’t always know what that is – cut them some slack. Not everyone was born with the gift of knowing what to say in a difficult situation. That person knows they are lucky to still have their parents. But they didn’t say it to “rub it in”, which seems to be how you have taken it.</p>