A young woman chose to announce her mother’s death on her mom’s Facebook page. She had no other access to her mother’s wide circle of friends and she felt this was the best way to share details for her mother’s funeral. Facebook friends “shared” the funeral plans and the young woman was surprised and comforted at the large turnout at her mom’s funeral.

Whether you like it or not, Facebook has changed the way we interact, communicate, and share information. Much of our lives revolve around social media so it was inevitable that it now plays a major role in death.

Facebook has become integral in how we:

1. Announce a death. 
   While Facebook has not replaced obituaries, it has become a common source of death announcements. By its nature, Facebook communications target friends or acquaintances and through its sharing feature, spreads the word that there has been a death.
2. Communicate funeral information.
   Facebook facilitates communications of funerals, visitations, memorial services, and other mourning rituals. It’s easier to post the information once rather than sending numerous emails or making individual phone calls. Not only can you post this information on your Facebook or loved one’s Facebook page but, you can create a “memorial” event and invite your Facebook friends.
3. Find a place to grieve.
   Facebook allows you to memorialize a deceased member’s Facebook page. This feature creates a space to grieve both individually and collectively. A friend, whose nephew died far away, found his Facebook memorialized page comforting. She viewed the photos and read and re-read the stories about her nephew. She had a pool of fellow grievers who were keenly feeling the same loss.
4. Post condolences.
   When a death announcement appears on Facebook, friends feel an immediate urge to respond and post condolences. This may provide quick comfort to the bereaved but unfortunately, it dampens the initiative to write a sympathy note.  
5. Generate ongoing support.
   A memorialized page, or your own Facebook page, provides a place to share future birthdays and death anniversaries of your loved ones – a continuing opportunity for friends to express their condolences, memories, and share their photos. Facebook has lifted the taboo of mentioning deceased loved ones over a long period of time.

Facebook has made grief and loss a more open part of our culture. And that’s a good thing.

​Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, available in ebooks for "Illness & Death," "Suicide," "Miscarriage," "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby," "Pet Loss," "Caregiver Responsibilities," "Divorce" and "Job Loss." All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store.​​​​​​​​​
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Image via stock.xchng / blary54

In the scheme of things, we expect to outlive our parents. It is in the natural order that we anticipate that our parents will die before us. And yet it seems that nothing prepares us for the loss – the void we feel following their deaths.

When my last parent died, I felt I had lost my buffer. Without my mom, there was no longer a layer that protected me. When she was alive, no matter what happened or what curve life threw my way, I had someone older and wiser to lean on and learn from. My mom was wise and she continually helped me put my life and experience in perspective. 

Many friends share the difficulty of caring for a mother or father who is sick and failing. Roles shift and the child becomes the caretaker. But even in sickness, a friend shared that she was able to sit close and lean her head on her mother’s shoulder. Just the very act was comforting, even though their roles had reversed.

It is during the role reversal that many of us grieve for the parent we have already lost. And we might think that in grieving and accepting the loss, we will be prepared for the finality of death. But many of us find that nothing prepares us for our parent’s death; especially our last parent.

The pain of losing a parent can be intense. I’ve heard this is true whether you had a good relationship or not. Most friends shared that the first year was the hardest. I found this true and was grateful as I moved into the second year following my mother’s death.

When my grief lingered, my husband encouraged me to find others to fill the void. “Look for someone older to establish a relationship,” he suggested. But I had lost more than my mother; within a year of her death, my last aunt died along with most of my mother’s close friends. I felt as if I lost an entire layer of my life.

So how did I move on? I did cultivate a stronger bond with my siblings and that helped me feel the continuity of family. But in my mother’s absence, I myself filled the void and took on her role. I learned how to comfort myself and my family. I became stronger and looked to myself for answers. Even today, if I have any doubts, I replay my mother’s messages over in my mind. She did her job well and I learned from the master. “Things have a way of working out,” she often said and you know what, they usually do.

Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, available in ebooks for "Illness & Death," "Suicide," "Miscarriage," "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby," "Pet Loss," "Caregiver Responsibilities," "Divorce" and "Job Loss." All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store.​​​​​​​​​
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There seem to be no conversational boundaries when it comes to death. The bereaved are often subjected to inappropriate comments and questions that can shock, hurt, or leave us speechless. We are often left wondering, how can friends, family, colleagues, neighbors, and even acquaintances say or ask that?

It can be especially stressful when someone you truly care about hurts you. A week after my mother died a friend inquired, “Do you think she knew she was going to die?” I hadn’t pondered that question, but after our conversation, I could think of little else. And as much as the question pained me, I never told my friend; I did not want to lose her friendship.

I’m not alone. It is very hard to articulate your feelings when mourning a loss and even harder to do it tactfully. Sometimes it is not just inappropriate conversation; there are people who just cannot understand our loss or our pattern of grief. It can become too difficult for them or us to continue the relationship while we mourn our loss. It is not uncommon for the bereaved to distance themselves or walk away from some friendships.
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So, how can you handle inappropriate comments or questions?

• For starters it can be helpful to understand that most people genuinely feel sadness for you but, they just do not know what to say. Maybe they have never experienced a death so they have no way to put it into context. In their discomfort, something inappropriate pops out.
• If someone makes you uncomfortable, remove yourself. If you are on the phone say, “I hear someone at the door” or “Another call is coming in.” If you are in person say, “It’s good to see you” and then exit. Or, “I have some other business to attend to.”
• You can always draw a boundary and say, “I’m not prepared to discuss this.”  Most people will back off but, it takes a lot of energy to deal with difficult questions and energy is what most bereaved lack.
• Most important, surround yourself with supportive and understanding people while giving yourself the time and space to heal. There will always be understanding people who do know what to say and do, so gravitate to them.

Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, available in ebooks for "Illness & Death," "Suicide," "Miscarriage," "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby," "Pet Loss," "Caregiver Responsibilities," "Divorce" and "Job Loss." All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store.​​​​​​​​
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Couple in a park photo via photopin (license)

copyright Legacy.com  Used with permission

My mother was a wise woman and a wonderful teacher. While we shared a lifetime of learning, it was not until her death that I realized she forgot one important lesson: She never told me how to live without her.

I’m not alone. Even though the death of a parent is the natural order of things, everyone I know has struggled with the death of their parent. Whether the relationship is a good one or bad, we never seem to be ready to lose them, no matter their age or ours.
 
It was the death of my dearest friend that spurred me to begin thinking of my own death. At the cemetery following my friend’s funeral my daughters asked, “Is this the cemetery where you would like to be buried?” As my husband and I had not had this discussion, it was a good place to start. We chose to respond to our daughters by asking them what they wanted. “Will you visit a grave site?” we asked, and “Do you want us buried in a place where you can come and grieve?”

In the following weeks, I began to explore funeral and burial options and ask myself the hard questions. For instance: What kind of life do I want my children to have when I am no longer with them? I knew that I do not want my children to feel as lost as I did when my own mother died.  

And so, my family began a series of discussions on a topic that one daughter calls, “The sad stuff.” Whatever it might be called, I am undeterred. There are decisions to be made on cremation services, niches versus cemetery plots, and the merits of a variety of burial/funeral fees. Our talks gravitate towards my wishes should my spouse survive me to thoughts and feelings about a range of topics. I want my daughters to understand and embrace that life should be lived without regret. And to accept that the world will continue and so will they, even when I am no longer by their side.
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There never is a good time to talk about death and yet I have seen the chaotic aftermath when the topic is avoided and feelings are left unsaid. I have chosen a different route for my family. My children now know how I feel and they will not be left with a burden of decisions to ponder when I am gone. It’s also freed up my mind to better embrace and enjoy the rest of my life.  
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Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, available in ebooks for "Illness & Death," "Suicide," "Miscarriage," "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby," "Pet Loss," "Caregiver Responsibilities," "Divorce" and "Job Loss." All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store.​​​​​​​​​​
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Photo AnaRusso via photopin

Copyright www.legacy.com  Used with permission

We’re all familiar with the five stages of grief and we have come to expect that at some point following a death we might feel denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and ultimately, acceptance. So it may be surprising to learn that other feeling might appear that can be downright unexpected and uncomfortable.

1. Relief
   If you have faced relentless worry and anxiety over a family member’s health, illness, treatment, or decline, it may startle you to experience a sense of relief. The relief will be replaced with grief, but for a brief time you may feel free of worry. 
2. Emptiness
   Where once there was a spouse, parent, grandparent, child, colleague, or friend, there is now a void. The role the deceased played in your life is now empty. While we mourn our loss, we may wonder if anyone can ever fill that space.
3. Helplessness
   Most of us rely on someone else to perform a variety of roles in our life. Without that someone we may feel helpless. Who will drive at night, do the taxes, install or fix the technology, do the laundry, or cook. While it might take time, many people are surprised when they rise to the occasion and find they can navigate life by themselves.
4. Fear
   When someone dies there is a fear, “If it happened to them, it can happen to me.” If a family member died at a certain age or from a specific illness it is normal to wonder if we too are in jeopardy when reaching that age.
5. Loneliness
   Loss is lonely. Grief is a solitary experience and because of our intense emotions while we mourn, it can be hard for others to have the patience to stand by and support us. After the initial outpouring of condolences, the phone and even email may become silent.
6. Lost
   When we have a history and have shared a facet of our life with someone it is easy to feel lost without them. No matter what role the deceased played in our life, whether friend, relative, colleague, or neighbor, we are now missing a partner for whom we had a common experience.
7. Disconnected
   If you have lost a parent, grandparent, sibling, or child you might feel disconnected. Family bonds to your heritage may feel severed. If you have lost an older relative it might be up to you to assume the elder family role and this can feel overwhelming and daunting.
8. Responsible
   The death of a loved one can bring so much sorrow. As you see others struggle and possibly falter, you may feel responsible for helping others grieve and this can interfere with your own grief. 

photo credit:author photo 

​Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, available in ebooks for "Illness & Death," "Suicide," "Miscarriage," "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby," "Pet Loss," "Caregiver Responsibilities," "Divorce" and "Job Loss." All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store.
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​So many of our holiday traditions are family-centered, making it painful to face the holidays after a loved one dies. Despite the pain, some people find it comforting to continue the old traditions that they've enjoyed. Since grief in itself is exhausting, it can be too overwhelming to try and build new traditions when mourning a loved one.

How you choose to handle holidays is a highly personal decision. In the first few months or years, you alone know whether it's comfortable or painful to bake the cookies, make that signature dinner, or hold the annual picnic. As time passes, you may find that life in itself has changed and it feels more comfortable to modify or integrate some new and different traditions.

One friend is widowed and lives with her widowed mom. Their holiday celebrations are much smaller now that it’s just the two of them. Rather than cooking a holiday meal, they usually have dinner with friends or go out to eat. An enormous fresh tree was central to their Christmas celebration, but my friend finds it's too difficult to handle alone, so they have a small artificial tree. But they keep the tradition of the Christmas lights, hiring a handyman to put them up.

Another friend was widowed when his two children were teens. He found it helpful that first year to ask his children, "How do you want to do this holiday?" There were holiday traditions that they kept intact because it was just natural to do things they enjoyed. When one child left for college the following year and the family of four became a family of two, life and holidays changed. But the changes felt like a more natural transition. Six years after his wife's death, my friend integrates some of the old traditions into his holidays, just because it feels comfortable.
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Memories may be your best guide to the holidays. Determine what makes you feel good and what makes you feel uncomfortable. But there's a difference between being uncomfortable and being sad. As one friend says, "Some people are so concerned about feeling sad. It's okay to feel sad; you've just lost your loved one."

Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, available in ebooks for "Illness & Death," "Suicide," "Miscarriage," "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby," "Pet Loss," "Caregiver Responsibilities," "Divorce" and "Job Loss." All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store.
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It’s just that time of year. While everyone is buying their holiday presents, decorating their homes, and planning holiday parties, my friend Beth is caught in her annual slump. It is winter; it might be chilly outside with a hint of snow in the forecast, but Beth has her own emotional barometer. She is getting ready to once again mourn the too-soon death of her beloved father. Despite the abundance of cheer, the winter holidays are always a season of sadness for Beth. It's not just my friend or the time of year, many of us have a season of grief when the death anniversary and birthday of our loved one comes along. So how do we cope?

I have learned that there is no right or wrong way to work through it. Grief is so personal and it’s influenced by our experience and relationships.

As the years pass, you may handle these periods differently. Sometimes keeping busy, not just with work, but with an active social life can help. A focus on being productive so you don't succumb to sadness may give a sense that at least you are moving forward. Often, just living in the present and keeping an eye on the future helps.

I have my seasons, too. No matter how sad, it is essential for me to acknowledge my loved ones. I think of them on their birthdays, feeling my love for them and the gratitude that they were a part of my life. I light a candle for each of them on the anniversary of their death. The candle burns for twenty-four hours and as I move through my day, I glimpse the flame as I pass and it reminds me how their spirit continues to live on within me.

What I have found empowering is the knowledge that while I can’t change what has happened to me, I can control how I manage the experience. I can avoid it by burying myself or getting out of town. Or, I can acknowledge it and allow myself to recognize the gifts that were mine, no matter how fleeting. All of us have that power.

​Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, available in ebooks for "Illness & Death," "Suicide," "Miscarriage," "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby," "Pet Loss," "Caregiver Responsibilities," "Divorce" and "Job Loss." All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store.

In the aftermath of her daughter’s death, my friend Isabel’s memory is hazy. She recalls friends surrounding her: they called, sent flowers, prepared meals, made donations, and attended the memorial service. And then silence. In the ensuing weeks, it took all her energy to assume fragments of her routine. Isabel said she exhausted her reserve and could not muster the energy to reach out. Her husband, while shouldering shared responsibilities, felt depleted as well. As Isabel began to comprehend the enormity of her loss, she felt alone.

Isabel has plenty of company as other bereaved parents share similar stories. Most report an overwhelming wave of support during the initial period when the newly bereaved are protected by shock and can barely register their loss. When the numbness wears off and it is time to mourn, friends are sparse. The bereaved might find it hard to find others to share their grief and this is the time when loneliness sets in.  

While many bereaved face the same dilemma, it can be particularly acute for bereaved parents. The death of a child is particularly tragic. It is unexpected and shocking, totally out of the natural order of things.  

Bereaved parents lament not just the disappearance of old friends, but the pain of losing them. They don’t understand why some friends can’t stand beside them in their hour of need. One bereaved parent explains it best: "Some people don't want to feel what we're feeling."

This comment hit home as it happened to me. In one particularly painful exchange, a colleague’s husband told us he had a meeting scheduled the morning of our daughter’s funeral. He could have rescheduled, but was so uncomfortable with the idea of going to a baby’s funeral that he chose not to attend.  

While I, too, lost friends after my children’s deaths, there were friends who stayed the course and embraced the wisdom of Irish statesman Edmund Burke: "The true way to mourn the dead is to take care of the living who belong to them." The friend you thought would be there may not, but someone else you never expected might step into their place. Embrace them and as gracefully as you can while letting the others go. The changing nature of friendship is another facet of the mourning cycle.

​Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, available in ebooks for "Illness & Death," "Suicide," "Miscarriage," "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby," "Pet Loss," "Caregiver Responsibilities," "Divorce" and "Job Loss." All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store.