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When a Friend Dies: The Bereavement Time Warp
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Consider the unusual nature of death. We humans meander through life barely acknowledging that we have a deadline, until of course, someone we know dies. Then, we are reminded of our own mortality, if only for just a moment. The fact that deaths are relatively infrequent in our lives and that we are very adept at ignoring our own deadlines can leave us ill-prepared to deal with this reality of life.

When a friend dies, our lack of coping skills becomes evident. We struggle with what to say or what to do. But, to our credit, we do what we feel we can. We send flowers. We bring casseroles. We attend the funeral.

And we express how sorry we are to the family, commenting about how much we cared for the deceased. Typically, the family can barely smile and thank us; they are often shell-shocked, just going through the motions as walking wounded.

Still, we do what we can. And then the funeral is over. We go home.

Please understand that this is in no way an indictment of what we do when a friend dies. I think that what we do is a good thing. Yet, when we go home we begin to enter a time warp.

In our time frame, we spend a few moments remembering our friend, trying to console family members. Then, we go home, because we have “things” to attend to. After all, we have to get back to life as usual.

In the family’s time frame, “life as usual” is gone, forever.

In our time, we want a surviving spouse to eventually “snap out of it” or “get over it” after a few months, to move past living in their memories of their deceased spouse.

In a spouse’s time, the flowers have faded away and the clean casserole dishes have all been picked up, but the pain will never go away. It may get better, but it will never go away. Never. Ever.

It is this time warp that leads me to believe that the balm we can provide to a grieving family member is most effective long after the funeral.

True story: Roughly two decades ago, a young man named Ricky Canady, who was my Assistant Manager at a business in Statesboro, was killed in a tragic vehicle accident. Ricky, who was from Metter, was a wonderful man – genuine, friendly, thoughtful, and just one of the downright nicest people you could have ever met.

I really liked Ricky. I remember breaking down at his funeral when his little daughter walked out with the casket. It absolutely broke my heart.

From talking with Ricky, I knew his love for his mother. He adored her. I’m sure that if I had sent a card or flowers to his mom, she would have appreciated it, but it is doubtful she knew who I was. The business, of course, sent a nice bouquet.

A full year later, I received a phone call from my Manager. (She was from Effingham; Angie Davis, now Angie Hitchens.) Angie said, “Can you believe it has been a year since Ricky died?” I knew what I had to do.

I found an address in Metter for Ricky’s mom, Ms. Martha Canady. I then sat down and wrote her a long hand-written letter. I told her how Ricky had affected my life, why everyone loved him so much, and how he was so proud of his mom.

His mother wrote me back immediately, saying how much she loved that letter. From then on, Martha Canady would send a yearly card, give me an update on Ricky’s daughter, and explain that once a year she would read through my letter.

I tell you this only because I do not think Ms. Canady could have appreciated what I had to say about Ricky immediately after his death. She was a zombie, and who could blame her?

It was only after the people went home, the casseroles stopped coming, and friends stopped coming by and calling that she was left to her quiet home and her memories of Ricky. I think it was then, while she was still headlong into bereavement (a year is nothing!) that she was able to truly appreciate the fact that others missed Ricky too – and remembered him!

So, here is my advice. Go to the funeral if you at all can. (As a pastor, I can tell you that people do remember who showed up for weddings and funerals!) But, do not try to re-establish a life for a grieving person.

Be there for those who are grieving, but the bereavement time frame differs for those at the center of the deceased’s life than for those not so affected. There is no “snapping out of it.” There is only working through it, and that takes time and work.

My prescription is to be there also in month 3 and month 6. That’s when the loss really hits. Take a grieving person to lunch. Stop by. Invite them to dinner. Make sure they know that you have not dropped out of their world.

And, most importantly, talk about their loved one. Tell stories about the deceased, describe your favorite memories of him/her, but oh, talk about their loved one. No casserole can touch that.

Consider the unusual nature of death. We humans meander through life barely acknowledging that we have a deadline, until of course, someone we know dies. Then, we are reminded of our own mortality, if only for just a moment. The fact that deaths are relatively infrequent in our lives and that we are very adept at ignoring our own deadlines can leave us ill-prepared to deal with this reality of life.

 

When a friend dies, our lack of coping skills becomes evident. We struggle with what to say or what to do. But, to our credit, we do what we feel we can. We send flowers. We bring casseroles. We attend the funeral.

 

And we express how sorry we are to the family, commenting about how much we cared for the deceased. Typically, the family can barely smile and thank us; they are often shell-shocked, just going through the motions as walking wounded.

 

Still, we do what we can. And then the funeral is over. We go home.

 

Please understand that this is in no way an indictment of what we do when a friend dies. I think that what we do is a good thing. Yet, when we go home we begin to enter a time warp.

 

In our time frame, we spend a few moments remembering our friend, trying to console family members. Then, we go home, because we have “things” to attend to. After all, we have to get back to life as usual.

 

In the family’s time frame, “life as usual” is gone, forever.

 

In our time, we want a surviving spouse to eventually “snap out of it” or “get over it” after a few months, to move past living in their memories of their deceased spouse.

 

In a spouse’s time, the flowers have faded away and the clean casserole dishes have all been picked up, but the pain will never go away. It may get better, but it will never go away. Never. Ever.

It is this time warp that leads me to believe that the balm we can provide to a grieving family member is most effective long after the funeral.

 

True story: Roughly two decades ago, a young man named Ricky Canady, who was my Assistant Manager at a business in Statesboro, was killed in a tragic vehicle accident. Ricky, who was from Metter, was a wonderful man – genuine, friendly, thoughtful, and just one of the downright nicest people you could have ever met.

 

I really liked Ricky. I remember breaking down at his funeral when his little daughter walked out with the casket. It absolutely broke my heart.

 

From talking with Ricky, I knew his love for his mother. He adored her. I’m sure that if I had sent a card or flowers to his mom, she would have appreciated it, but it is doubtful she knew who I was. The business, of course, sent a nice bouquet.

 

A full year later, I received a phone call from my Manager. (She was from Effingham; Angie Davis, now Angie Hitchens.) Angie said, “Can you believe it has been a year since Ricky died?” I knew what I had to do.

 

I found an address in Metter for Ricky’s mom, Ms. Martha Canady. I then sat down and wrote her a long hand-written letter. I told her how Ricky had affected my life, why everyone loved him so much, and how he was so proud of his mom.

 

His mother wrote me back immediately, saying how much she loved that letter. From then on, Martha Canady would send a yearly card, give me an update on Ricky’s daughter, and explain that once a year she would read through my letter.

 

I tell you this only because I do not think Ms. Canady could have appreciated what I had to say about Ricky immediately after his death. She was a zombie, and who could blame her?

 

It was only after the people went home, the casseroles stopped coming, and friends stopped coming by and calling that she was left to her quiet home and her memories of Ricky. I think it was then, while she was still headlong into bereavement (a year is nothing!) that she was able to truly appreciate the fact that others missed Ricky too – and remembered him!

 

So, here is my advice. Go to the funeral if you at all can. (As a pastor, I can tell you that people do remember who showed up for weddings and funerals!) But, do not try to re-establish a life for a grieving person.

 

Be there for those who are grieving, but the bereavement time frame differs for those at the center of the deceased’s life than for those not so affected. There is no “snapping out of it.” There is only working through it, and that takes time and work.

 

My prescription is to be there also in month 3 and month 6. That’s when the loss really hits. Take a grieving person to lunch. Stop by. Invite them to dinner. Make sure they know that you have not dropped out of their world.

 

And, most importantly, talk about their loved one. Tell stories about the deceased, describe your favorite memories of him/her, but oh, talk about their loved one. No casserole can touch that.