What To Say When Someone Dies
I just snuck downstairs in the halflight to try to steal a little time before the boys wake up. It's snowing out there and I don't need to look at my emails or listen to the radio to know that school is closed today. Again.
I'm sitting on the floor in front of the woodstove I just fed, listening to the wood catch and pop and the metal creak as it heats up while I try to type with a very affectionate, won't-take-no-for-an-answer cat in my lap.
I spent a lot of time yesterday thinking about my aunt Maggie after reading the lovely things people have been writing about her. And I woke up this morning in the hushed white thinking about my dad. His name was Joel and he died unexpectedly about four and a half years ago, shortly after we'd moved back across the country to be near him and my mom and my husband's parents.
He was a good man. A Jewish boy from Brooklyn who chose to raise his family in the country and work with his hands. He could build or fix anything. He was a gifted designer and left behind a number of beautiful homes he'd dreamed up and built here in NY's Hudson Valley. He loved the woods and hunting deer - it was like a spiritual practice for him. He loved the sun and the sand, especially down in the Yucatan Peninsula. He loved my mom, my brother and me.
After he died, I spent a long time in a state of shock and sadness, trying to come to grips with the fact that he was gone and wondering where he was. And wishing I could have said goodbye and given him a hug.
It was the first time I'd lost someone I was really close to and a kind of crash course in grief. Prior to his death, I'd felt nearly paralyzed by uncertainty and awkwardness in the face of someone grieving. What should I say? I had no idea what they wanted or needed. And death is scary and confusing, you know?
What I learned is this - the most important thing is just to say something. Even if it's something unoriginal like, "I'm so sorry" or "I'm thinking of you and your family." As long as you mean it, the old standbys are good - that's why they're the old standbys.
What you should NOT do is pretend nothing has happened. I am still incredulous that a friend of ours came to visit not long after my dad died, when I had a constant headache and my eyes were always swollen from crying and he did not say ANYTHING to me about the fact that I'd lost my dad. It made me feel so much worse. And angry.
The best thing people did after my dad died was to share stories and snippets from his life with me - it was like getting back little pieces of him, something I was desperate for. In fact, I feel like I probably know him better now than I did while he was alive. And I loved hearing from other people how he felt about me, of course.
So, in short, say something. If you didn't know the person, speak from the heart to let the person know you care about them, that you acknowledge their loss, that it matters - that's all they really need.
And if you knew the person who's died, share whatever stories you have of their lives or talk about the things you loved and appreciated about them. If you're too uncomfortable to do it in person, send an email or a card - just as good and maybe better, depending on the person.
Thank you to all of you who've sent your thoughts and love, both when my dad died and more recently, about Maggie. It helps.
More musings that are not about food:
For more delicious recipes, gardening ideas, foraging tips, and food-related inspiration "like" the Garden of Eating on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter and Pinterest.
I'm sitting on the floor in front of the woodstove I just fed, listening to the wood catch and pop and the metal creak as it heats up while I try to type with a very affectionate, won't-take-no-for-an-answer cat in my lap.
I spent a lot of time yesterday thinking about my aunt Maggie after reading the lovely things people have been writing about her. And I woke up this morning in the hushed white thinking about my dad. His name was Joel and he died unexpectedly about four and a half years ago, shortly after we'd moved back across the country to be near him and my mom and my husband's parents.
He was a good man. A Jewish boy from Brooklyn who chose to raise his family in the country and work with his hands. He could build or fix anything. He was a gifted designer and left behind a number of beautiful homes he'd dreamed up and built here in NY's Hudson Valley. He loved the woods and hunting deer - it was like a spiritual practice for him. He loved the sun and the sand, especially down in the Yucatan Peninsula. He loved my mom, my brother and me.
After he died, I spent a long time in a state of shock and sadness, trying to come to grips with the fact that he was gone and wondering where he was. And wishing I could have said goodbye and given him a hug.
It was the first time I'd lost someone I was really close to and a kind of crash course in grief. Prior to his death, I'd felt nearly paralyzed by uncertainty and awkwardness in the face of someone grieving. What should I say? I had no idea what they wanted or needed. And death is scary and confusing, you know?
What I learned is this - the most important thing is just to say something. Even if it's something unoriginal like, "I'm so sorry" or "I'm thinking of you and your family." As long as you mean it, the old standbys are good - that's why they're the old standbys.
The best thing people did after my dad died was to share stories and snippets from his life with me - it was like getting back little pieces of him, something I was desperate for. In fact, I feel like I probably know him better now than I did while he was alive. And I loved hearing from other people how he felt about me, of course.
So, in short, say something. If you didn't know the person, speak from the heart to let the person know you care about them, that you acknowledge their loss, that it matters - that's all they really need.
And if you knew the person who's died, share whatever stories you have of their lives or talk about the things you loved and appreciated about them. If you're too uncomfortable to do it in person, send an email or a card - just as good and maybe better, depending on the person.
Thank you to all of you who've sent your thoughts and love, both when my dad died and more recently, about Maggie. It helps.
More musings that are not about food:
For more delicious recipes, gardening ideas, foraging tips, and food-related inspiration "like" the Garden of Eating on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter and Pinterest.
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