What Not to Say

Never again would I be the recipient of the thousands of ways he would show his affection for me. His gentleness would never again take the dishes out of my hand at the end of a long, hard day and lead me to a bubble bath, already drawn, with scented candles and a book just for me, while he finished the kitchen chores. Never again would I find flowers on my table from him or tea beside me as I read because he thought of me as he made one for himself. Never again would I fall asleep holding his hand, and never again would my phone ring, and my heart leap as I saw it was him calling. The doorbell rang! My heart sank as the first of many visitors came bearing food and condolences. Those first people who entered had begun with the usual well-used phrases that often get repeated at a time like this. But, it didn't take long to find out that all those who entered my door would not necessarily bring comfort but more shock and horror at the things they said. With the preliminaries out of the way, the conversation continued in a rather uncomfortable and insensitive manner, "Wow, you look horrible!" I was stunned and wanted to reply with a sarcastic, "You think?" I mean, "My God, man, my husband passed away at one o'clock in the morning. I got home at approximately four A.M. and didn't really sleep until well after I had gotten home! After spending nine full days and nights in the hospital by his side, sleeping on the chair-cots that are provided, not eating well, and I don't look good! I have lost my husband. My children have lost their father. And I don't look good! What a surprise! I can't imagine why?!" Although I never spoke those words, they ran through my mind with intensity and speed. Those words rang in my mind after they left, leaving me depleted in the face of my current reality. But, as I stood and looked them in the eyes, as tears welled up in my own, I could not utter any sentence, let alone one that would cause biting damage to another. And so it began. Little did I know that this journey would often challenge my character in a million different ways. As many of you already know, some of the most painful things you will have to process are the things people say. There were countless times during the first and second year after the loss of my husband that the conversations and intentions of others left me feeling shame, feeling like somehow I was doing "it" wrong! However, I could not stop feeling the way I felt. The pain continued, and the ache of not having James near me persisted. Was I sinking into a world of hopelessness? Were "they" correct? Was I taking the loss too hard? After all, as a believer and a follower of Jesus Christ, I knew that my husband was with Jesus. Shouldn't that make it all better? Maybe I didn't really have the faith I thought I did. Shame. I hadn't lashed out, although I wanted to. I had watched my husband take his last breath, held his hand, and stroked his forehead as he did it. Death is real. And it is hard! I have friends who have appeared to have handled grief much better than I have, but the reality was, when I sat with them, they really didn't. They had learned to put on a face that would keep others at bay because a smile and the right words make others think you are doing just fine. In listening to them tell their stories, they had quickly tired of the "remedies." "Why does everyone feel the need to give a remedy," was a line spoken by a dear friend and widower.