“Missing!”
The ominous word caught my attention as I caught it with my finger before it left my phone screen. For the sake of sleep, I usually don’t scroll through my social apps in bed, but some nights I need the company of smiling faces, so I spend a lot of time smiling through other people’s lives.
Underneath the bold headline was a picture of a teenage boy, about 14 or 15, the same age as my youngest. I checked who posted this notice, hopefully it’s a public service announcement and not someone I know.
But he was a friend, a dear friend. She’s not long after a tracking shot of her son and the missing boy, big smiles on their faces, elbows on each other’s shoulders, flushed cheeks covered in red sauce with messy bowls of pasta tied on the table in front of them. The caption read: “We love you Tim … always and always.” Tim was found. He was not alive.
My friend was now grieving her friend’s child while raising her own son through her grief. In the days that follow, she unites a community to support that broken family, something I knew little about; not to create an army of volunteers, but to get the support of the community. I had the same amazing line of friends and neighbors at my door just three years ago after my husband of 22 years, a passionate neighborhood organizer, champion of community causes, died by suicide. My three teenage children and I were blind like everyone around us. Everyone wanted to know what they could do to make us better.
The problem was that I was in shock. In an impressive move of self-preservation, my brain deleted all “unnecessary” from its normally reliable to-do list. So the things I couldn’t even think about before – brush my teeth, take a shower, do the laundry – were completely out of my mind. I had to set an alarm on my phone every day to remember to take something out of the fridge and heat it up for dinner. Even then I sometimes forgot.
In the days after Jeff’s death, countless people came to the house, bringing hugs, food, stories, laughter and tears. I felt such comfort in being surrounded by this love. A house full of people willing to do whatever I asked of them, but I didn’t know what to ask. All I could think about was making sure my children were still alive. I was constantly leaving friends to peek into my son’s or daughters’ rooms to see if they were breathing. When friends ask, “What can I do?” I could feel the kindness and concern in my heart, but all I could think was, “Don’t let my children die.” But I knew that didn’t make sense, so I just shrugged my shoulders, thanked them, and told them I’d let them know if I thought of anything.
But I never did. I already felt such a burden, I couldn’t ask for anything more. I couldn’t ask them to think about things that needed to be done and to do It was too much. It was all too much.
“Do you know the five stages of grief?” The day after I had to share the news, my husband’s best friend asked me. Finally, someone with practical advice.
“No,” I’m sure I sighed.
“Me neither, but we should Google it,” he said. Turns out I needed a joke.
#
I have no secret formula to end sadness or fix the emptiness of sadness. Something that can be said or done that makes all the difference. Nobody does. Every grieving family is different, so there is no one-size-fits-all to-do list to fix their pain. Anyway, my people saved my life and my three teenage children with their care.
When I saw my friend on the front lines of such an emotional rescue mission, I had to share with her everything I had learned about surviving those tough times so that she would be better equipped to help her friends. Here’s what I told her.
First put on your oxygen mask
Take care of yourself. It is not only the family that has lost a loved one that suffers, the entire society deals with the shock of grief. To be strong as a friend, you need to get enough sleep, enough time to eat, counsel and spend time with your family. It can be hard to do normal things when a friend’s life is no longer normal, but I know that in my case it was comforting to know that my friends were okay.
Take care of your family. My friends and their children were also affected. I hated that our family had somehow hurt our family. It made me feel better to see them get help and get better.
Meet immediate needs
Offer to collect items or update orders for the family. There were small parts of Jeff’s life that needed to be addressed but were too difficult for me to process. Since Jeff died in his office, his car was still there, so a neighbor took it and kept it at his house until I was ready to collect it. Jeff died the week before Thanksgiving, just days before we were due to travel to visit my family. My sister canceled her seat on that flight.
Keep the family fed. The first weekend after Jeff’s death, friends poured in to offer their condolences and help. Mother Brigade has brought finger food for everyone to eat. Those snacks were our breakfast, lunch and dinner for the first few days.
Help with the obituary. Two of Jeff’s childhood friends wrote a letter and submitted it to the local newspaper. I’m a writer, but the thought of trying to capture everything Jeff was in a meaningful way seemed insurmountable when I could barely brush my teeth.
Help with memorial service details. We had Jeff’s house at the church, so the staff and members did the legal work and Jeff’s employer covered the expenses. My sister-in-law would collect photos from family and friends that would be displayed on the big screen. My sister was standing next to me as an unusual reception line formed in front of me and she graciously held it.
Place out-of-towners. My neighbors accommodated my immediate family, which kept them closer than when they were in a hotel. Another friend collected air mattresses from local families so that my daughters friends visiting camp could all sleep with her. A neighbor hosted a party for out-of-town guests the night before the service so the kids and I could go see everyone, but we were able to leave in time.
Consider seasonal jobs. Friends asked if they could decorate my house for Christmas while we were away on Thanksgiving. It was easier to come home to a holiday home.
Take care of pets. Every time the neighbor and her daughter walked their dog, they would stop by the house and ask if our dog, Bow, wanted to join them. Both needed attention.
Organize a food preparation brigade. One mom used Sign-up Genius to organize months of regular meal deliveries. I found that eating three times a week was a good routine because almost everyone brought two days worth of food. She posted our food allergies on the site and also asked people to list the ingredients on their food to be safe. She asked everyone to deliver the food by 4pm every day, which was helpful because I could plan my day around it. Friends who were too far away to have food delivered sent Grubhub/Doordash gift cards.
Stay tuned in the weeks to come
Send regular invitations for lunch or outings. Several mommy friends texted to go on regular walks with me. Sometimes we talked about Jeff, sometimes we didn’t. They gave me a place that I am sad. Don’t try to fix it for me, just let me grieve for as long as I need to. It was very helpful for me because I had all this extra pain to unload, but I didn’t have to load my person here anymore.
Offer to help clean the room/closet. My friends offered to take Jeff’s stuff out of our closet when I was ready. I waited until I was one year old, then my mother came to help. I decided what to keep and what to donate, and he took each box as he filled it. I found notes and pictures in his pocket. It was a particularly stimulating exercise, so it was good to have physical and emotional support through it.
Follow up months later
Plan for the long term. I’m four years in and still have moments of closure. There are a few people who still text me at every milestone to let me know they are thinking of Jeff and us. Make a note for yourself now to learn about a person’s birthday, anniversary, death, any religious holiday, school start, graduation, Father’s/Mother’s Day, or any other milestone that will be more difficult for that family now. A simple “I’m thinking of you” makes all the difference to someone who is hurting.
Finally, keep predicting do what the family needs and ask for permission to do so. Push them to help you. Sometimes people don’t want to take out their grief on others, but helping them is a way to process their grief. But if they’re not comfortable, that’s okay too. Every family is different; what is supportive for one may interfere with another. Asking is the best way to know.
And I’ll end where I started: Take care of yourself. Talk to your family about their feelings and experiences. Let them know it’s okay to be sad. Or crazy. Or happy. Let them know that you need extra time to care for their friend, but that you are there for them too. The most important thing we can do is be there for each other. And our way is to teach each other how.
