Compassion, Winter 2020

Winter 2020 - Compassion | www.tcf.org.uk 24 Good Grief Conversations or “I Don’t Know What to Say” A woman approached me at a local event three years after Nico died. She was someone who had pointedly avoided me immediately after Nico died, crossing the road and concentrating on the contents of her bag with such intensity I thought she’d spotted a winning lottery ticket in there. She may have been planning to give me some kind of explanation and apology but I’ll never know as what she actually said was, “I didn’t speak to you when Nico died because I didn’t know what to say” . Having delivered this line, she looked so smug and pleased with herself, so “well, that box is ticked” and all very like “I’ve just donated to Children in Need”, that I just wasn’t able to hold back. I replied, “Oh, but I can help you there. A bit late for me - but probably useful for the future. What you say is “I’m so sorry to hear that Nico has died. He was so lovely/kind/funny/gorgeous. It must be very hard for you” . Then I walked away. I think we were pretty much done. In the weeks and months immediately after Nico’s death people crossed the road when they saw me. We live in a large village and everyone knows Nico’s dad and they know I’m Nico’s mum. In the first weeks when people crossed the road, I thought it was a bit strange but the penny didn’t drop. After a month or so, I realised they saw me and then crossed, or suddenly became completely engrossed in their bags or phones. When I realised what was happening it left me with a horrible chilled sensation. I was already struggling with feelings of isolation and the realisation that people would rather do anything, than face the possibility of having to speak to me, was more than hurtful. It felt like a hard, cold ball in my chest, pressing down and making it hard to breathe. I stopped going out. Clearly some people are ignorant when it comes to speaking to bereaved parents, but what really makes me angry about this is the way they are letting themselves off the hook. As if the excuse of “not knowing what to say” closes down the discussion and negates the effect that this can have on the grieving family. It’s just not good enough. Here are just a small sample of some of the many lines I’ve heard and read, many, many times over the last few years: “I didn’t speak to her because I didn’t know what to say” “I felt a bit bad because I avoided her, but I just didn’t know how to say it” “I felt a bit awkward when I saw her, so I stayed on the other side of the room” “I don’t really do emotions and I’d only make it worse, so I’m just staying away” “I mean it’s just so hard isn’t it? You just never know what is the right thing to say” Etc, etc, etc … No doubt you’ve heard all these lines too. The one thing they all have in common is that they are statements in which they choose to normalise their behaviour, which then makes it excusable and understandable. This sustains and develops a way of hiding from the truth