Literally seconds after I published my last blog post, I got a call from one of my best friends. (The kind I have written about in the past…the kind who would run in front of a bus for me, puts my needs in front of hers, routinely gives to me more than I deserve. That kind.) We were on the phone for less than 60 seconds, but her world, my world, our world will never be the same. Her father-in-law tragically & unexpectedly took his life on Monday morning. She and her husband were traveling to be with the family. Would I let our other friends know? Suddenly my stupid pensive questions seemed inane – I was immediately grounded.
Now I have new reasons to be pensive. I have been carrying my friend, her husband, his family in my heart since that phone call. I have not been sleeping well. I have been worrying and praying. I feel ill-equipped to offer the best comfort to my grieving friends, whose lives are dramatically changed. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed about this or not, but I actually found myself googling how to comfort survivors of suicide. I am afraid of a misstep, some thoughtless comment I might make in trying to be helpful. (For instance, I read that you should not say someone “committed suicide,” that you should not offer judgments of the deceased, positive or negative.) I want to get this right for my friends because they have gotten it right for me in so many of my times of need.
Yesterday Chris and I traveled to be at the services. We want to be there for our friends and to give them some support or comfort while they continue to be rocks for the other surviving family members while grieving themselves. I felt such a mix of emotions: heartbreak for the widow & her sons; pride for the legacy this wonderful man leaves behind; awe for his handsome sons & their accomplishments; relief that I have not yet had to face the loss of a parent; uncertainty for the future of the family; anger that someone would cause this tragedy for my friends & their family; sadness that someone could lose all their hope in the world; fear that I may one day be unable to reach someone who needs to be reached.
I want my friends to know that, despite the fact that this tragedy will forever change their lives, it does not have to forever define their lives. This suicide, this decision, was not theirs. I don’t know what words of comfort to say because I don’t know all of the emotional nuances my friends have in their hearts right now. I don’t want to utter something from a place of knowing it all, because I don’t. I just want to listen and hug.
Relaxaby 