It seems like every time I've answered the phone or read my e-mail recently, I have learned that a friend, colleague or relative has lost someone they loved to accident or disease. That is why, although death may seem a strange subject for a sunny summer day, I want to talk about what happens when we learn about the death of someone close to a person we care about.
First, let me assure you that although many people think mental health professionals have magical words to say to someone who has suffered a loss, we don't. Nothing you can say takes away the pain nor is that what you need to do when somebody has suffered a loss. Your job as a friend, colleague or relative is to offer support, care, sympathy and, if you've had a similar loss, empathy. That boils down to simply being there and caring.
I'd like to point you away from some wrong things to do. One, which I mentioned before, is trying to take away pain. It can't be done and efforts to say "Don't worry" or "Don't talk about it" often make it more difficult for people to work through their grief.
A second thing we do--with very good intentions--is to put an additional burden on the person suffering the loss. We say, "Just give me a call and let me know what you need." This sounds supportive but the probability is that the person won't call and is having difficulty figuring out what they do need.
You can, instead, offer to do certain things such as grocery shopping, cooking, childcare or any of the normal activities of daily life for which survivors seldom have the energy.
A woman who had lost a young child recently talked to a colleague of mine about her reactions to certain efforts. Again, every attempt to help was well meaning, but some efforts inadvertently hurt more than they helped.
One hurtful comment often made is "Thank goodness you have another child." Again, while the person means to be comforting the message being heard is "Oh, the children are interchangeable."
The woman also said people acted as if they were afraid to talk to her. I think we give that impression because we are so afraid that we will say the wrong thing.
The key is caring and listening. That may sound fairly simple but it isn't. Staying with somebody through their pain rather than simply doing things to take the pain away is one of the most difficult tasks we can ever do, certainly more difficult than to do something active that distracts us from their pain.
I have one final point. We often remember to be there during that time immediately following the death and during funerals and wakes. It is important to remember that the needs of the survivors do not end with the activities of that first week.
Being there is a long-term proposition because grief is a slow process that occurs over time. Even when the obvious mourning period is over, holidays, birthdays and other "anniversary dates" are likely to bring fresh pain. Remember to continue to be available for your friend or colleague.
Psychologist Sally Harvey's column runs twice a quarter in Dateline. For columns printed in previous issues, call Pam Carroll at the Academic and Staff Assistance Program Office, 752-ASAP.
