What I Learned About Supporting Grievers, after Losing My Mother.
By: Iyin Praise Fisher
Tags: Empathy, Support, Grief And Loss, Family

I stalled writing this for a while because I was not ready to face the mountain of emotions I had been avoiding or suppressing. On the 11th of November 2019, I got the news that my mother had passed away at just 52 years old. Even though she had been ill for a few months prior, her death was never an ending I ever considered.

It was even more of a surprise because I had been in school while she was ill, and I was made to believe she was getting better. To me, she was a superhero, my best friend, the backbone and heart of our family. The idea of her not being there was so inconceivable, and so her passing was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me.

After getting the news, I dreaded going back home for the funeral. It’s not that I did not want to see my family. Or that I did not wish to say goodbye to my mum correctly. I had just never lost someone so close to me before, and I did not know what to expect. I also come from a part of the world where sensitivity is undervalued and mental health is ridiculed. I tried to prepare myself as best I could mentally, but nothing could have prepared me for the experience I had.

I decided to write this article to share some stories from that experience, as well as some lessons I learned. The following points below are tips, for friends, family members, well-wishers and everyone trying to sympathize with those who are grieving. I am not claiming to be an expert. I might have even been guilty of some of these things before. These are simply suggestions, solely based on my experience.

Less is definitely more.

Most times, when faced with unfortunate circumstances such as death, we are left not knowing what to say or how to comfort those hurting. Some turn into rambling versions of themselves, saying everything and anything. Others become silent, offering nothing at all. I heard so many stories of how good of a person my mum was to several people. I think this was their way of cheering me up. Surprisingly, this only made me feel worse as all it did was remind me that I had lost the most amazing person in my life.

The reality is that there is no right thing to say.

There is nothing you can say that will make the person feel better or bring back their loved ones. Your attempts at comforting them might even actually be having the opposite effect.

For me, I found that I got the most comfort from people who were just there with me during that period. Those friends who just sat by me cried with me, held my hands and reassured me that I was not alone. Nothing can compare to the human presence, and knowing they were there for me helped.

If you must say something, a simple “I am sorry for your loss. I hope you and your family find comfort” will suffice.

Avoid reinforcing the narrative that mourners have to be “strong.”

Some of the worst things you can say to someone grieving is “be strong” or “stay strong”. Strength in this context is characterized by avoiding excessive displays of emotions, presenting a positive outlook on the situation and generally carrying yourself well in public.

Every person in my family was told to be strong for one reason or the other. My dad was asked to be strong because he was the only parent we had now. My siblings and I had to be strong for our dad. Mine was because I was the oldest child. My brother was always told to be strong “because he was a man”. And as for my baby sister, she had to be strong as she was the only one at home when our mum passed. On the day our mum died, someone even told my sister to stop crying so my dad can think she’s okay. I can also recall being told on the day of my mum’s burial, to stop crying because I had to be strong for my dad and siblings.

This is not as compassionate a statement as you think because losing someone takes you on an uncontrollable emotional rollercoaster. You can’t determine what emotions you’ll feel or command the feelings you have to disappear magically. In the first month after my mum’s death, I remember feeling alright on some days and then crying myself to sleep and begging God to let me die on other days. I felt emotions I had never felt before; neither did I know how to handle.

All telling grieving people to be strong does is make them repress the emotions they are feeling.

They do this repeatedly and pretend like everything is fine until one day, they explode. The thing about repressed emotions is that they don’t disappear. They are still there, hidden, waiting to make an appearance at the slightest trigger. I’ve seen this over and over again, in myself and my other family members. It just manifests in different ways, depending on the person.

Encourage the bereaved to seek help.

Building on the last point, I’ve seen the adverse effects of being told to be strong on my family and I. We’ve learned to mask them behind an “I’m fine” or “I’m okay”.

During the burial period, my sister received so much praise for being so strong at such a young age. My brother and I were told to be like our little sister because “she has been so strong for daddy”. Little did they know that she was keeping a brave face for their sake. Now, she has formed an awful habit of bottling up her emotions, having a breakdown every couple of weeks, and then carrying on like she’s okay. I have seen my sister break down crying on the floor countless times, and she has admitted to feeling like she had to keep it together for us. Imagine having this kind of responsibility at just sixteen years old.

My suppressed emotions manifested themselves in the form of panic attacks, which I had never had before my mum died. I bottled my feelings because I did not want to burden anyone with the negative moods of anxiety and uncertainty I felt. Also, as I was in school since the burial, I was able to distract myself with my studies and other activities. However, being back home forced me to face my new reality of not having my mother there.

The first panic attack scared me so much, and I remember feeling like I could not breathe. I also had such sharp chest pains that I thought perhaps I had a heart attack. I did not want to feel like that ever again, and I decided to seek professional help. I have benefited from speaking to a professional and making my mental health a priority.

If you are around someone who was bereaved and they are acting like they are fine all the time, something is wrong. They might be pushing away or avoiding their emotions. If they can afford it, kindly encourage them to talk to a therapist or counsellor. In the situation where they can’t, reassure them of your presence, listen to them. You should be listening more than you’re speaking. Also, avoid giving unsolicited advice and apply the tips in point one, in times of confusion.

Don’t tell the bereaved how to feel.

I cannot count how many times people suggested what emotions we should feel in the place of sadness or misery. We were told we should be grateful because “at least she knew God, so she’s in heaven”. Or that we should rejoice because “her race on earth is now over”. One statement I remember repeatedly hearing during that period was “let us not mourn like unbelievers”. What does that even mean? Was it a good thing that she was dead? Why do people feel so comfortable telling others that they are grieving in the wrong way?

A family friend (and I wish I were joking) said to my siblings and me, “all I can say to you guys is congratulations. You won’t understand now, but you’ll now start seeing things turning around for you”. He then proceeded to tell us his own story of how his family began to prosper after his father died. As if a parent’s death was somehow a prerequisite for success.

Another lady bitterly told us to be thankful we had grown up with our mother, as hers died when she was three — what a comparison. Someone else implied that because they had known our mum longer than my siblings and I had, the pain they were feeling was significantly more than ours. In other words, suck it up. Was it a competition? The battle of the mourners?

My siblings and I were told that whenever we were upset, we should imagine a situation where both our parents had died. This was so we could appreciate that we still had our dad.

Sigh. I could go on and on.

I cannot even begin to explain how uncompassionate and unempathetic statements like these are. Emotions are complicated, and you cannot just will someone to feel what you want, so YOU feel better. Even if you’ve been through something similar, you simply cannot understand how another person is feeling. I do not care if you’ve lost every single person in your family; you don’t know what I am feeling.

People are different. Experiences are different. Relationships are different.

How I felt having lost my mum cannot be precisely the same way you felt when you lost yours. If statements like these brought you comfort during your difficult times, then good for you. This, however, does not apply to everyone.

Minimize meaningless sentiments

Like I said before, it’s okay not to know what to say when dealing with grieving people. What is not okay is saying things just to have something to say. This thankfully applies to only a small group of people.

You know that you are not going to check on the bereaved after the funeral. The bereaved also know that you are not going to check on them. So why waste words making meaningless and unnecessary promises?

Similarly, saying you’ll be there for them is beautiful but also meaningless if not backed up by actions of you actually being there. If you were not a confidant to them before their loss, they are not going to start opening up to you now. Such sentiments only serve to make YOU feel good about yourself. Just give your condolences and keep it moving.

Other careless sentiments to avoid include; “time heals all wounds”; “this is how God wanted it”; “everything happens for a reason”; “one day, you’ll look back on this and smile (and/or thank God)” etc.

Also, avoid making statements or jokes that insinuate that the deceased can be replaced or another family member can now fill their role in the family. This is just plain disrespectful to the deceased and makes everyone uncomfortable.

Allow the bereaved to take their time healing.

The process of grief is very long and challenging. I seem to keep cycling through the five stages of grief, and in this seventh month after my mum’s death, I wonder if I will ever reach the acceptance stage. The day of the burial, after the events, someone told me it was time to go back to life as usual. As if I could just forget that my mother was dead and move on with my life because you were able to move on with yours.

I have found that so many things have lost their meanings to me, making it difficult to go back to normal. As she was buried in December, all the sentiments of the holiday period I would usually feel, are gone. I remember my siblings and I saying “what’s merry about Christmas?” and “what’s happy about the New Year?”.

It is no longer Detty December, but rather the anniversary of mummy’s burial. Birthdays are now spent imagining what she would have done if she was still here. Wedding anniversaries to my father are now a reminder that he is now a widower; of the great love, he once had. It is now painful to even continue upholding our family traditions, and we would rather forget they ever existed. Even future events have lost the excitement we once had when we thought about them. Graduations, weddings, the birth of our kids, career advancements and other significant life moments we looked forward to, will now be marred by her absence.

Life can never be normal again because a considerable part of it is missing. I used to talk to my mother every single day. I would tell her about everything and anything, the significant and the mundane. How can my life go back to the way it was before when she was a big part of my daily routine?

Avoid telling mourners to go back to life as usual. That is insensitive.

How you can help is to instead, assist them in adjusting to their new normal. Encourage them that it’s okay to make new traditions if the old ones hold painful memories. Give them support when they ask for it. Be patient with them, as every day comes with its own set of struggles. Remind them that grief is a process, a marathon, not a sprint.