The unsmiling, obviously haggard and inwardly exhausted police officer or paramedic faces the spouse of the deceased and says, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
We have all heard it thousands of times, and not only on television. The line has been picked up in the general vernacular and I have heard people at funerals say these exact words. Screen writers may go on strike from time to time but they continue to contribute, deliberately or not, to the evolution of American colloquial expressions and conventions.
Somehow, it sounds kind of hollow. Partly because the specific line has been thoroughly overused, but also because there generally isn’t really any one sentence that would be much better or be any more comforting to the surviving person. Expressing condolences, whether as a character in a fictional story or as a real person in real life, creates a real dilemma for whoever feels that something needs to be said.
In drug and card stores, right alongside the sections for Birthdays, Anniversaries and Weddings is one for Condolences. Here we find the Hallmark-type versions of “I’m sorry for your loss.” With illustrations, with or without religious references or overtones, using only a few words (or, as is often the case with cards, FAR too many) a sentiment intended to convey empathic sadness, loss and understanding is composed for you, sparing you the anguish of trying to figure out both what to say and how to say it. The usual Greeting Card format ordinarily used is, in and of itself, out of place.
Of course, if the bereaved person is at a distance, a phone call, card or letter may be the best or only choices to express your support and shared sadness. However, if you are close enough to be physically with the person, there is often an inverse relationship between the amount and believability of verbiage and the actual sentiment offered and received. So, having now made a lot of statements about what is NOT helpful, what is the option? The best one – and one that comes with no little difficulty to many people, involves few if any words at all – either spoken or written. It centers on quiet presence and receptivity.
If you have had the experience of losing someone close to you to the finality of death, you may find some comfort in the tenets of your faith. Still, the reactions of people to the death can be experienced by you, the one still in this life, as being somewhat comforting, vacuously neutral or even unbelievably irritating, even when presumed to have been well intentioned.
Expressing an honest condolence is one of the most difficult things most people may every have to do.
Too many words and catch-phrases are most apt to be used by people who either 1) Don’t really know you and didn’t really know the deceased well but who, for other reasons, felt it appropriate to be standing there close to them at that especially fragile moment, or 2) Are so unnerved themselves by the death, that they literally can’t stem the flow driven by their own need to talk about it. In either case, it isn’t apt to offer much by way of comfort to the person who is actively suffering from the loss of a loved one.
Even when spoken ‘from the heart’ by close friends, words can seem to be shallow and peripheral at these times, so I suggest that it is usually best to say as little as possible. This is not to be confused with not being present. From a close friend, a shared tear and hug conveys more and in a more genuinely empathic and supportive way than the most cleverly written and delivered eulogy.
Being present means to be able to tolerate the mourner’s pain so as to stay near them and to be available to them should THEY want and need to talk with you about what they are experiencing, or even about something that may seem entirely off-topic, to give themselves a bit of relief. Being available to listen is simply a lot more important than being available to talk.
Sometimes, recently bereaved people don’t need to talk. They may need to feel comfortable sitting in silence, quietly and inwardly reflecting, recalling and feeling. Having worked a good deal with people in the post-acute phases of continuing grief, it is not unusual to hear them describe the experience of being able to do this in the company of caring friends who did not feel driven to interrupt their own process with words and thoughts of their own, being of powerful comfort to them.
Talk can certainly be comforting and soothing – But knowing when to be quiet is a genuine art and is often appropriate in times of deep loss.
Being available to listen is not ‘doing nothing.’ Being actively present is not tantamount to passivity. Not speaking is not the same as not caring. Be present, be caring and leave the opportunity for expression, primarily, to the person who is bereaved. You can talk about it with someone else later.
