Vilomahs, this is an excerpt from the book Option B, by Sheryl Sandberg and Adam Grant, which I came across in Time Magazine (April 24, 2017) and have been wanting to share. Sheryl (Facebook COO) lost her husband Dave in 2015 to heart failure. He was 47. Her words, written after she emerged from the shock of sudden death, will ring true for widows and widowers as well as bereaved families. Sheryl addresses the important topic of how to speak frankly about grief after the death of a loved one, and how family and friends can offer support.
“In the early weeks after Dave died, I was shocked when I’d see friends who did not ask how I was doing. I felt invisible….When someone shows up with a cast, we immediately inquire, ‘What happened?’ If your life is shattered, we don’t.
People continually avoided the subject. I went to a close friend’s house for dinner, and she and her husband made small talk the entire time. I listened, mystified, keeping my thoughts to myself….I ran into friends at local parks who talked about the weather. YES! The weather has been weird with all this rain and death.
Many people who had not experienced loss, even some very close friends, didn’t know what to say….Their discomfort was palpable, especially in contrast to our previous ease. As the elephant in the room went unacknowledged, it started acting up, trampling over my relationships….Friends were asking ‘How are you?’ But I took this as more of a standard greeting than a genuine question. I wanted to scream back, ‘my husband just died. How do you think I am?’ I didn’t know how to respond to pleasantries. Aside from that, how was the play, Mrs. Lincoln?
The deep loneliness of my loss was compounded by so many distancing daily interactions that I started to feel worse and worse….I knew that people were doing their best. Those who said nothing were trying to not bring on more pain; those who said the wrong thing were trying to comfort. I saw myself in many of these attempts–they were doing exactly what I had done when I was on the other side.
I remembered the year before Dave died when a friend was diagnosed with cancer. At the time, I thought the best way to offer comfort was to assure her, ‘You’ll be OK. I just know it.’….Recently, a colleague was diagnosed with cancer, and I handled it differently. ‘I know you don’t know yet what will happen–and neither do I. But you won’t go through this alone. I will be there with you every step of the way.’ By saying this, I acknowledged that she was in a stressful and scary situation. I then continued to check in with her regularly.
I finally figured out that I could acknowledge (my) elephant’s existence….I told my closest colleagues that they could ask me questions and they could talk about how they felt, too. When people asked how I was doing, I started responding more frankly. ‘I’m not fine, and it’s nice to be able to be honest about that with you.’ I learned that even small things could let people know that I needed help: when they hugged me hello, if I hugged them just a bit tighter, they understood that I was not OK.
Until we acknowledge it, the elephant is always there. By ignoring it, those in pain isolate themselves, and those who could offer comfort create distance instead. Both sides need to reach out. Speaking with empathy and honesty is a good place to start.”