Lessons in Grief | How to be a good friend.

Talk to us about who we lost.
While there may be certain times I am not open to speaking about my Dad, the truth is that I don't want to be the one always bringing him up. And, I feel like I am. Didn't everyone remember what happened to me? The unimaginable. And I want to talk about it. It shaped me, my mom, my siblings, my friends... and even Benjamin. He will not have a grandfather. How is that NOT reason enough to talk? Let's remember him together. I want to talk about his ability to befriend everyone, or his genuine interest in everyone's lives, or his minute to minute coverage of weather and sports - or maybe you can tell me what you liked and remember. Either way, he can only now live through me and my memories, so help me keep that alive.

Send real mail.
It was so touching to find cards in the mail almost daily for a month. It takes so much more effort to hand-write a message than to comment on Facebook. Make someone's day. Send a card.

I know you want to run away. (Please don't!)
Listen. I get it. Every time I open my mouth, it is something else. It's enough that I lost my dad, but now, we are losing John's mother. I KNOW. It's CRAZY. But, I am not exaggerating, so please bear with me. Please don't run away. I know you are probably afraid it will rub off on you, but it won't. And, this too shall pass for me. One day, if you too are in crisis, I will not run away either.

Make a real offer to help... or don't say anything.
Wow. That sounds harsh. Sorry. I don't know what to say to people in crisis sometimes either, and I don't make awesome, freezable casseroles; but, offering over and over and over to do "anything," yet never actually suggesting something... that gets old. Tell me you are bringing over dinner. Come over and say you are there to watch the baby so I can nap. Bring me a book of stamps* and offer to help write thank you notes. Or, just ASK me what needs to be done. If there is nothing, I will tell you. More often than not, we are doing okay and just want you to be a friend. Instead of saying you'll doing "anything," just tell me you think of me often and are here for support.

Sorry my laughter is creeping you out.
I am sorry that I occasionally laugh or am sarcastic about the drama in my life. It really is all I can do to not to cry sometimes. When life hits you all at once with challenges and you hear the words come out of your mouth... you want to laugh, because it often sounds ridiculous outloud! Please forgive me. I really am sad, I just cannot cry all day, every day. Laughter is healing. I'll never forget talking to a pension guy on the phone a couple weeks after my dad died. He said "sorry for your loss" probably ten times in ten minutes over speaker phone. Finally, I whispered over to my mom, "He is sorry for our loss." We started laughing so hard he thought she was sobbing. When we realized he though we were crying, it made us laugh harder.

You are allowed to talk about your good stuff.
Just because I lost my dad does not mean I don't want to hear about how great your dad is and what great things you are doing together. It's not a competition. Yes - I wish he was here, but I am not jealous of your dad. I want mine.

And your bad stuff.
You don't have to apologize for unloading on me, even if my stuff is "worse." I also cry when I stub my toe and get annoyed when the waitress gets my order wrong. You are allowed to be mad and to tell me about it. It's okay that it's not as bad as "my" stuff... that's actually awesome. It makes me feel normal to bitch about a paper jam. (Damn it feels good to be a gangsta...)