*If you aren’t familiar with my sister’s story, you can read a little about it here and here, for context. Also, if you missed it, you should probably see what I had to say about her on her birthday earlier this month here too.
My mom took this picture back in February when we went with my sister to the Outer Banks to remember my brother-in-law on what would have been his 41st birthday and spread his ashes on the beach where they got married and spent many many happy days. It’s my favorite photo from that weekend because it so perfectly illustrates the grief experience from my perspective… Notice Kathryn is at the ocean alone. The water is rough and scary at times, and peaceful and calm at others. It is vast, and you can’t see where it ends…
When she looks only that one way, she’s all alone; but, from the other direction, it’s obvious that she is not. Right behind her, just a few steps back, are the people that loved DeWayne, and love her; the people that want to face that ocean with her. Her tribe.
It’s a beautiful picture, right?
We have been on this grief journey for ten months now. It is Kathryn’s journey really, but I say “we,” because I have truly tried to walk it with her. I knew from the beginning that it would be a marathon, and I promised her that – while there would be many people that loved her and cheered her on at different intervals along the path, I would be one of the few that took every step right beside her — stopping to nurse wounds or cry on the side of the road when necessary, coasting downhill on the “easy days,” and fighting to catch our breath on the hardest ones…
Ultimately, what follows is my experience of this season. While I do have her blessing to share all of this, it would be different if she wrote it. This isn’t a post about how to survive loss as much as it is about how to walk with someone else that has… I’ve tried to be honest and vulnerable about my own shortcomings and – in some cases – hers; BUT, I think it is worth saying, again, that my sister has been absolutely AMAZING through it all.
There is no “How to Survive Losing Your Husband at Only 32 for Dummies” book (trust me, I’ve looked for it), but Kathryn has taken each step along the way with strength, humility, and hope… From the very beginning, her goal has been to honor DeWayne – the man he was, and the legacy he has left – and she has done an INCREDIBLE job. It has not always been easy or pretty, but I am in awe of her strength and beauty during the hardest months of her life… She has taught me more than I could ever put into words. I am so ridiculously proud of her that it physically hurts sometimes. Seriously.
We still have a long way to go in healing, and I am far from an expert at any of this; but, with Kathryn’s permission (and insight in some areas), I wanted to share some of what I’ve learned so far in hopes that my lessons might help another tribe on this path and – years from now – serve as a reminder to Kathryn and me of the road we traveled and the distance we covered together.
Here we go.
How to love someone experiencing a loss:
Let them be sad/mad/whatever. Honestly, this has been one of the very hardest things for me; but, I really believe, it’s the most important… I’m a fixer; and, in this case, a big sister. My natural tendency, of course, is to want to STOP the pain and somehow make things “better” for Kathryn… Sadly though, I’ve learned that there is no bandaid or magic word for grief… On her hardest days, I have had to actively stop myself from saying things like “don’t be sad,” and trying to cheer her up / change the subject / etc. As much as I might want to do those things, that’s not my job; and, the truth is, experiencing her emotions NOW – when they are still so new and raw – is actually CRUCIAL to Kathryn’s healing in the long run… Seeing someone you love hurt is absolutely THE WORST, but I have learned to be OK with sitting there in the pain with her instead of trying to pull her up. Now, I say things like “of course that made you sad,” or “you have every right to be angry over that.” Sometimes I cry too. Sometimes I just hug her and say nothing at all.
Don’t say “I know how you feel” or “I understand.” Basically, unless your situation is *exactly* the same as the person who has experienced the recent loss’s situation, this is unhelpful and possibly hurtful. The truth is, you DON’T know, and you can’t. I honestly think these words just slip out sometimes because we want to say something, and we don’t know what to say. A better option though? Just say, “I don’t know what to say.” Or “This is unimaginable. I’m so sorry.”
Have a mantra. Because it is SO easy to say the wrong things in situations like this (see above; and, trust me, I’ve said LOTS of wrong things), I’ve found it helpful to have one or two things I/we say over and over when things are hard. A big one for Kathryn and I has been — “there’s only one first.” As you can probably imagine, the first time doing something without the person you love is SUPER hard; but, this reminder has been good in both the big things, and the little things… There is only one first night sleeping without him. Only one first Christmas without him. There is only one first vacation without him. Only one first tax filing without him. Only one first softball game without him. Only one first snow storm without him. Only one first dinner at home without him. Only one first first day of school without him. Only one first oil change without him. Sure, she’s going to have to do many of these hard things over and over without her husband (which 100% sucks); but, there is only one first; and, time has shown us, that it does get (a tiny bit) easier each time. *Edited to add: Don’t overuse your mantra. I think Kathryn is kind-of sick of this one now. Haha!
Give lots of grace. As you can probably imagine, the technical / practical / relational side of your losing your spouse can be super complicated and confusing… Like I said in my last point, this is the first time Kathryn has done any of this before; and, while she’s done a darn good job of managing ALL.THE.THINGS (while also dealing with extreme emotions, of course); the fact is, she’s human, and she has also made mistakes. She’s appeared “too happy” or “too sad.” She’s forgotten things. She’s missed important events, been short with people she cares about, and used a lot of four-letter words. (We giggle now thinking about the way she talked to our pastor – who was, of course, incredibly gracious and understanding – on the day of DeWayne’s memorial service!) Even in her imperfections though, her tribe knows her HEART. They know that the smiling Instagram photo doesn’t show her tears when she gets home, and how much – truly – is on her plate to keep up with these days. They know that her intentions are always good, and they are quick to give her the benefit of the doubt, offer forgiveness for missteps, and dole out generous doses of grace.
Comfort In, Dump Out. I learned about the Circle of Grief / Ring Theory from our Pastor on the day after DeWayne died, and it has been immensely helpful to me in keeping things in perspective throughout the grieving process. If you aren’t familiar with this theory, you should definitely do a quick Google search; but, in a nutshell, you draw a circle with several rings and the person(s) most closely affected by the crisis go on the inside of the circle – in my case, Kathryn; the next ring includes the people next closest – best friends, family members, etc.; and so on. Then, you aim to give comfort to anyone in a more inner circle than you, and allow/ask for comfort from people in more outer circles than you. SO, especially in the beginning, I didn’t talk much with Kathryn about how sad and scared I was, but I DID talk to Jeff and a few best friends. Make sense? (P.S. I think showing some level of sadness with the person grieving is SUPER important/helpful – in fact, crying with them is often therapeutic for both of you. Just make sure you aren’t crying harder than the person at the center… If they are rubbing your back and telling YOU it’s going to be OK, you’re headed in the wrong direction…)
Show up. This seems obvious, but just BE THERE. Physically, if possible. But, texting, emailing, snail mail, etc. go a long way too. Be the friend that shows up on Thanksgiving morning (when he knows you’ll be cooking alone) with a Diet Coke to sit in the kitchen and chat. Send a text “just checking in” or mail a funny card (Emily McDowell has the BEST ones). Schedule the regular Tuesday night dinner or the monthly trivia games at the brewery. For Kathryn, staying busy and being with people has helped a lot. Others, I can imagine, might prefer being alone or at home. Either way, send the invite… just remember to show grace if it’s declined.
Don’t be afraid of being normal. I also think there is something to be said for acting “normal” after a reasonable amount of time. That amount is probably different for everyone, but don’t shy away from inviting your friend to watch bad reality tv just because it seems trivial after what she has experienced (it might be just the escape they need), or even from asking her to help with your kids/pets/home/etc. if you would have done this before the loss… Some of my best nights with my sister these last ten months have involved giving my kids baths and blowdrying hair and folding laundry… In a season where she absolutely deserved to be selfish, she’s been more giving than ever – picking Sam up at the bus stop, going to soccer games, attending dance recitals, etc. etc. etc. Maybe I’m just making myself feel better, but I think those things – those little bits of normalcy and purpose — can be super healing — especially if they involve cute kids and/or dogs. 😉
Help in practical ways. Offer to stop by and let her dogs out, drag her trash can to the street, shovel snow, mow grass, drop off a gift card to her favorite store, take the car to get it inspected, deliver dinner (stay and eat if you can), clean out the gutters, etc. etc. etc. Kathryn’s tribe has STEPPED UP, and it has been a huge blessing. Not only does it free up some mental space and physical time for her, but it is also a tangible picture of the love they have for her. PLUS, many of these tasks are especially sensitive and hard because they were things DeWayne would have normally done and, therefore, make his absence feel even more real/strong. The practical things are NEVER unappreciated, and they help more than you realize.
Still, you MUST take care of yourself too. You know the old “you can’t pour from an empty cup” and “put on your own oxygen mask before you help someone else” things. These are cute, but SUPER hard to actually implement in real life; and, I admit, I’m pretty terrible at taking care of myself most of the time. BUT, it is important… For me, self care has meant recognizing my own grief over the loss of my brother-in-law (someone I loved) and over the loss of “the old” Kathryn (she will never be the same after this in many ways). It has meant seeing a counselor once a month to talk about my own stuff, having good girlfriends that I can unload on once in a while; and, prioritizing time with my own husband and kids guilt free! To be fair, Kathryn has NEVER put pressure on me to do/be too much, but having boundaries for yourself can almost be harder than implementing them with other people… I have had to accept that I can’t “do” everything or be with Kathryn all the time; and I’ve learned to simply be grateful for the INCREDIBLE group of friends she has – many of whom are in different stages of life than me – that can (and are) there when I’m not (which is a lot), that step up to do the things I forget/can’t/don’t, and that have also come alongside her on this route. Like many things in life, this takes a village – and she has a REALLY good one.
Remember. If you can do nothing else, you can simply remember the person that was lost…. It has meant SO much to Kathryn to hear from people who’s lives were impacted by DeWayne, to hear the funny stories, to see pictures, etc. Don’t be afraid to talk about him (trust me, you won’t be “reminding” the person grieving of anything that isn’t already on his/her mind 24/7). Use their name. It’s ok to say things like “he would have loved this,” or “this song made me think of the time he…” Also, remember the date of the loss and other important ones (birthdays, anniversaries, etc.). A quick text or email on a specific date goes a long way, but remembering on random days is great too! Put a reminder in your phone for months/years down the road… Remember, this is a marathon — while, in so many ways, our lives go back to regular programming after a while, hers will not. It can be incredibly comforting to remember that DeWayne is not forgotten, and neither is Kathryn, even as time passes.
And, there we go. Clearly I had a lot to say about this! Haha! I hope this was helpful/meaningful to someone out there in internet land, and if you’ve walked through a similar season with a friend/loved one (or gone through something and had people walk beside you), I’d LOVE to hear what you think of this list + what you would add.
Thanks for your continued prayers for my sister and our family. We are doing it!
E
