After my husband died unexpectedly at 32, there was one person who was most comforting in the immediate aftermath—a coworker who had lost her partner to suicide a few years prior. She sat next to me on my couch and said, "I'm so sorry. I wish I had other words to offer you, but I don't. I'm sorry and this sucks. And I'm here to sit by you as long as you want." We sat in silence for a while, crying. As horrible as that moment was, those words made me feel so much better.
I've always wanted to be that person for other people and I'm not entirely sure that I am. I need to work on my stamina, as you so smartly put it, for being present during difficult moments.
It’s not just America/modernity. In the Old World Indian culture I grew up in there’s plenty of stigma and superstition and people distancing themselves from particular types of vulnerabilities - sometimes from ignorance thinking it literally might be contagious, other times from misogyny or other identity-based prejudice that blames the victim. Yes in other more common circumstances ritual provides a time-tested container and acknowledges grief and vulnerability, like when someone dies or is ill with something widely understood. But when it’s an ill of a different ilk - mental illness or, say, divorce - the customary responses are downright harmful.
Sometimes it helps to tell someone that if they ever want to talk or just need company, you are there for them. And offer again sometime later.
Sometimes what a person really needs is not emotional support. When my father was taking care of my mother through a long decline into Alzheimers, what he needed most was not sympathy but actual help, respite, so he could maybe take a nap.
I am glad you mentioned how asking a suffering person for lots of information is mostly painful to that person unless you actually have something helpful to offer in the way of resources. When someone I love was brutally ill with what would predictably be a life-long, unpredictable condition, a well-meaning person kept urging me to explain again and again so he could understand. It was only a burden to me.
This is a powerful gift for us all Courtney. Bless you. After my daughter was born I was on the phone with my mother telling her that I was crying more and she said, "Now that you have a child there will always be tears behind your eyes." Having the soulful presence of others makes our sadnesses, our griefs more bearable. You've given us treasure.
I lost my mom to Alzheimer’s, finally last spring, but also hundreds of tiny times over about a decade before then. Grief (and, if I’m to be honest, middle-aged hormones) have made me a raw ball of emotion in ways that I could never have expected. I feel the “full-spectrum human experience” in ways now that I can barely comprehend. As embarrassing as it often is (crying at the grocery store, or wherever), I’ve decided that I’m grateful. I’m grateful to have a heart that works. Thank you for this beautiful, beautiful essay today.
Oh, the perils of casserole 2.0! For years I have gotten requests to participate in meal trains and have shied away. As often because I was broke and had no extra money to buy food beyond what was necessary for me and my kids, as because I didn't have any extra energy in my tank to think about how to nurture extra people in that particular way. I wish we had a way to invite other kinds of care. Do you need someone to pick up your groceries for you? Drive your kid to weekend activities? Shovel the snow on the sidewalk in front of your house? Mow your lawn? Pick up your CSA share and deliver it to you?
There are times I would have happily offered my hands and time, but somehow the meal train has implied "this is what people need (period)" and I don't necessarily know all the people I get invited to support well enough to feel welcome to otherwise invade their private world during a challenging time.
Jan 25, 2023·edited Jan 25, 2023Liked by Courtney Martin
thank you for this. and, i'm really sorry that this is the underside of the beauty of life and love - which is grief and loss. in case this is a useful resource, a dear friend and her collaborator wrote this book: There Is No Good Card for This:
What To Say and Do When Life Is Scary, Awful, and Unfair to People You Love
(https://www.harpercollins.com/products/there-is-no-good-card-for-this-kelsey-croweemily-mcdowell?variant=32205660389410) (full disclosure i had contributed a small piece around how my community showed up after a cancer diagnosis). i hear you on being there after the initial bells and whistles go off (and then away), and keeping on showing up 6 months, a year later, and beyond. and also taking care of yourself in the process too. caregiving and showing up are hard, even if they are important and done with love. also, another resource that i've really enjoyed and felt like it shed light on grief and loss was the full anderson cooper podcast recently. one of the topics his guest covers is on dementia and that experience with her father. it helped me see dementia and the ongoing and/or acute losses and one person's way to process that set of experiences.
Not knowing what question to ask, and staying quiet -- that's me. I need to work on this, too. Thanks for naming it. I can deal with fear of saying the wrong thing, but worse would be regretting that I didn't speak up, right?
Courtney, I hear you, and I’m in awe of your powerful ability to express these deepest emotions. I only wish that a beautiful voice like yours might have been there to strengthen and console me when my younger brother suffered so long and died from early onset Alzheimer’s. I accept your assignment in the hope of helping someone through their grief. Thank you. DD
Excellent article. You tackled an impossible topic. I'm sorry about your relative with Alzheimer's. I've been there twice. I agree that there's no rule book for these situations. No etiquette for illness or death. Having dealt with both way too much, I've found that it's individualized. Each response is based on the person and your dynamics with them. There are no words needed most times, just being present is a blessing. Human nature makes us want to run and hide when these things strike too close to home. Being there for others (consistently) takes courage and strength. You have no idea how meaningful that is to the person (s) going through this. Bless you and your family as you do the next right thing each step of the way. 🤗🙏❤️
“this, my friends, is the full-spectrum human experience…” This, unexpectedly, is joy. Only grief could teach me that because before, I was too afraid to feel it.
I also find people have different levels of "good supporting" at different times in their lives. Someone who is hideously insensitive at 40 may be a wise source of succor at 55. With this stuff we often can and do "get better."
I really needed to read this today. Thank you.
After my husband died unexpectedly at 32, there was one person who was most comforting in the immediate aftermath—a coworker who had lost her partner to suicide a few years prior. She sat next to me on my couch and said, "I'm so sorry. I wish I had other words to offer you, but I don't. I'm sorry and this sucks. And I'm here to sit by you as long as you want." We sat in silence for a while, crying. As horrible as that moment was, those words made me feel so much better.
I've always wanted to be that person for other people and I'm not entirely sure that I am. I need to work on my stamina, as you so smartly put it, for being present during difficult moments.
It’s not just America/modernity. In the Old World Indian culture I grew up in there’s plenty of stigma and superstition and people distancing themselves from particular types of vulnerabilities - sometimes from ignorance thinking it literally might be contagious, other times from misogyny or other identity-based prejudice that blames the victim. Yes in other more common circumstances ritual provides a time-tested container and acknowledges grief and vulnerability, like when someone dies or is ill with something widely understood. But when it’s an ill of a different ilk - mental illness or, say, divorce - the customary responses are downright harmful.
I am so sorry.
Sometimes it helps to tell someone that if they ever want to talk or just need company, you are there for them. And offer again sometime later.
Sometimes what a person really needs is not emotional support. When my father was taking care of my mother through a long decline into Alzheimers, what he needed most was not sympathy but actual help, respite, so he could maybe take a nap.
I am glad you mentioned how asking a suffering person for lots of information is mostly painful to that person unless you actually have something helpful to offer in the way of resources. When someone I love was brutally ill with what would predictably be a life-long, unpredictable condition, a well-meaning person kept urging me to explain again and again so he could understand. It was only a burden to me.
This is a powerful gift for us all Courtney. Bless you. After my daughter was born I was on the phone with my mother telling her that I was crying more and she said, "Now that you have a child there will always be tears behind your eyes." Having the soulful presence of others makes our sadnesses, our griefs more bearable. You've given us treasure.
I lost my mom to Alzheimer’s, finally last spring, but also hundreds of tiny times over about a decade before then. Grief (and, if I’m to be honest, middle-aged hormones) have made me a raw ball of emotion in ways that I could never have expected. I feel the “full-spectrum human experience” in ways now that I can barely comprehend. As embarrassing as it often is (crying at the grocery store, or wherever), I’ve decided that I’m grateful. I’m grateful to have a heart that works. Thank you for this beautiful, beautiful essay today.
Oh, the perils of casserole 2.0! For years I have gotten requests to participate in meal trains and have shied away. As often because I was broke and had no extra money to buy food beyond what was necessary for me and my kids, as because I didn't have any extra energy in my tank to think about how to nurture extra people in that particular way. I wish we had a way to invite other kinds of care. Do you need someone to pick up your groceries for you? Drive your kid to weekend activities? Shovel the snow on the sidewalk in front of your house? Mow your lawn? Pick up your CSA share and deliver it to you?
There are times I would have happily offered my hands and time, but somehow the meal train has implied "this is what people need (period)" and I don't necessarily know all the people I get invited to support well enough to feel welcome to otherwise invade their private world during a challenging time.
thank you for this. and, i'm really sorry that this is the underside of the beauty of life and love - which is grief and loss. in case this is a useful resource, a dear friend and her collaborator wrote this book: There Is No Good Card for This:
What To Say and Do When Life Is Scary, Awful, and Unfair to People You Love
(https://www.harpercollins.com/products/there-is-no-good-card-for-this-kelsey-croweemily-mcdowell?variant=32205660389410) (full disclosure i had contributed a small piece around how my community showed up after a cancer diagnosis). i hear you on being there after the initial bells and whistles go off (and then away), and keeping on showing up 6 months, a year later, and beyond. and also taking care of yourself in the process too. caregiving and showing up are hard, even if they are important and done with love. also, another resource that i've really enjoyed and felt like it shed light on grief and loss was the full anderson cooper podcast recently. one of the topics his guest covers is on dementia and that experience with her father. it helped me see dementia and the ongoing and/or acute losses and one person's way to process that set of experiences.
Not knowing what question to ask, and staying quiet -- that's me. I need to work on this, too. Thanks for naming it. I can deal with fear of saying the wrong thing, but worse would be regretting that I didn't speak up, right?
Thank you. I too needed this today.
Courtney, I hear you, and I’m in awe of your powerful ability to express these deepest emotions. I only wish that a beautiful voice like yours might have been there to strengthen and console me when my younger brother suffered so long and died from early onset Alzheimer’s. I accept your assignment in the hope of helping someone through their grief. Thank you. DD
Good stuff. Thank you for putting this into words.
Excellent article. You tackled an impossible topic. I'm sorry about your relative with Alzheimer's. I've been there twice. I agree that there's no rule book for these situations. No etiquette for illness or death. Having dealt with both way too much, I've found that it's individualized. Each response is based on the person and your dynamics with them. There are no words needed most times, just being present is a blessing. Human nature makes us want to run and hide when these things strike too close to home. Being there for others (consistently) takes courage and strength. You have no idea how meaningful that is to the person (s) going through this. Bless you and your family as you do the next right thing each step of the way. 🤗🙏❤️
“this, my friends, is the full-spectrum human experience…” This, unexpectedly, is joy. Only grief could teach me that because before, I was too afraid to feel it.
Thank you. 💗
Phew. Thank you so much for this.
Lovely piece.
I also find people have different levels of "good supporting" at different times in their lives. Someone who is hideously insensitive at 40 may be a wise source of succor at 55. With this stuff we often can and do "get better."