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.
Copyright Legacy.com.  Used with permission.
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The Easter and Passover holidays are here and while many of us revel in the joy family traditions bring, for those grieving a loss, the holidays can hold little joy.

So what should we do for those we care about mourning a loss? Do we invite them to our Easter brunch or Seder? Send cards? Buy gifts? Try to cheer them up?

For starters, it’s important to understand that grief is very individual and runs its own course. It’s not something anyone can control and the bereaved need to mourn their loss at their own pace and in their own time. Holidays are a particularly difficult time because absences are acutely felt and holidays, with established traditions, demonstrate how much life has changed.

A widower, whose family hosted a holiday meal for friends, continued the tradition the first year after his spouse’s death. But he found it too painful and accepted an invitation the next year, changing the way his family celebrated the holiday. A widow who traditionally hosted the family holidays decided to leave town for the first holiday after her spouse’s death. Instead of taking care of the family with dinner and presents, she went to a spa and let someone take care of her. It gave her the space to recharge and rethink her role in her family and by the second year, she was ready to create new family traditions.

Your support, especially during the holidays, is important. While cards and gifts are thoughtful, your companionship might be the best gift of all. It’s helpful to initiate a discussion and ask the bereaved what traditional activities they’d like to participate in and what they might be comfortable doing. But only ask if you are willing to make changes to accommodate their feelings. They might like to stick with traditions or, they might like to create new ones. You’ll never know unless you ask.

​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.​​​​​​​

Couple in a park photo via photopin (license)

copyright Legacy.com  Used with permission

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.

Tangible reminders are what keep our loved ones close and a continued part of our lives. Here are some ways to keep your memories alive, not just for you but for generations to come.

My friend's dad died several years ago but she thinks of him often; his golf hat and golf clubs are a constant reminder. She stores them where they are visible and she smiles when she sees them. A cousin wore his dad's coat the first winter following his father's death and a friend found great comfort using her mom's handbag while she grieved her death.

These stories made me think of my grandma. She was constantly in the kitchen and she always wore an apron. I wear an apron too and every time my hands reach behind me to tie the bow, I think of my grandma. And I've continued her legacy by giving every family member an apron.

These tangible reminders are what keep our loved ones close and a continued part of our lives. I was reminded of this when we celebrated my daughter's birthday at a restaurant. All grown up, I was surprised she wanted us to sing the family birthday song. The song dates back to my mom's camping days and my mom made it a part of our family's celebrations; I've passed it on to mine. My husband, daughter and I tried to sing quietly, clinking our glasses on cue. I thought how special it was that my mother's legacy is still very much a part of our lives and now that my daughter is a mother herself, I have very confidence that my daughter will pass it on to another generation.

Here are some ways to keep your memories alive, not just for you but for generations to come:

1. Display photographs where you can see them often, and use them as a way to share a story with other family members and friends.

2. Prepare and integrate family recipes into your daily life and holidays and let everyone know their history.

3. Share copies of your loved one's recipes. When I share a recipe from my mom, I always title it "Jean's ***," and it always gives me pleasure. And I have recipes in my personal cookbook that bear the names of my friends' loved ones.

4. Use a family heirloom, such as a serving piece, at holiday time, reminding your family of its history and all the occasions it's served.

5. Pass on family heirlooms to family members that will use and treasure both the item and the memory.

6. Tell stories and tell them often. Your personal stories will become part of your family's history.

7. Copy documents and share them with other family members to preserve and cherish your loved ones.

8. Document personal history and memories, creating a written story to be passed down to generations to come.

​Photo credit: memories_fcc-rachel_zack_1600x500-1170x366.jpg

​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.

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.  

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.

Photo AnaRusso via photopin

Copyright www.legacy.com  Used with permission

I learned to be comfortable with the bereaved because at a young age, I was the bereaved. I witnessed firsthand how young friends, their parents, my neighbors, teachers, school officials, relatives, and family friends treated and interacted with me upon learning of my father's death.

And yet it was my mom who taught me how to comfort the bereaved. She connected by phone, cooked a meal, visited the bereaved, and continued to help long past when others ceased to call. It was her model that I emulated and used to teach my own children: death is a part of life and the bereaved need our support.

Not everyone feels at ease comforting the bereaved. And if you’re not comfortable, how will you teach your child to be comfortable? One of the ways to instill compassion in your child is to work on a comforting activity together. This is how my neighbor Susan did it.

Susan and her best friend Abby were pregnant at the same time. Susan’s baby, Lisa, was healthy; Abby’s baby, Beth, wasn’t. Beth was born with a disfiguring congenital defect for which there was no cure or repair and her parents were told that she had only months to live.

Susan and her daughter spent a lot of time with Abby and Beth as well as Abby’s older daughter Sara. Beth died at age two, having lived much longer than expected. Susan, a gifted writer, chose to write the story of Beth’s life. She wanted big sister Sara to know that despite Beth’s disfiguring illness, she was much loved and during her short time on earth, her life was meaningful and she made a difference.

While working on the project, Susan shared what she was doing with her daughter Lisa and Lisa colored the illustrations Susan had drawn. Together, Susan and Lisa presented the book to Abby and Sara. Abby has shared that during the five years since Beth’s death Sara continues to get comfort from the book. She shares it with new friends as it is a comfortable way to tell the story of Beth’s short life and death.

Since Beth’s death, Susan has used her writing talents on several occasions. She has written stories and poems for friends and loved ones who are bereaved. Now, Lisa offers to draw the illustrations. She’s learned firsthand from a compassionate mom how to be compassionate too.

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: stock.xchng/kslyesmith

Adapted and previously published Legacy.com  Used with permission

It’s difficult to witness the physical and mental decline of a friend or loved one with a debilitating illness. In fact, it’s hard not to grieve while they are still alive, as responsibilities and relationships shift and lives change. Some might think that death would be a relief and grief shortened, but that’s not often the case.

My mother declined over a period of 18 months, and during that time, our roles steadily reversed. I loved her dearly, relying on her strength, and I grieved for her as she retreated from my life. Following surgery, she bravely and with great determination fought her way to recovery and amazingly flew by herself first west and then north for family visits. She died just three months after her visit with me.

The morning after her funeral, my first emotion was relief: I would no longer have to worry. No more frequent phone calls or arguments as I pleaded with her to forgo habits and activities that put her at risk. That relief quickly mushroomed into overwhelming grief, and it would take me time to learn how to live without her.

One friend had a different experience. She shadowed her parents during the year her father bravely fought cancer and again the following year when her mother’s cancer spread. By the second funeral,  she felt numb. Surely she grieved in those early days as she and her siblings settled the family estate, but she shared that she had done most of her grieving while her parents were still alive.

Another friend’s mother had dementia, and it robbed her of seven years of her life. Her mom’s decline was excruciating to watch. While driving her mom to the doctor one day, my friend’s mother asked, “Are you my mother or my daughter?” My friend lost control of the car and hit a parked car. After that incident, my friend prayed that her mom would pass away and find some peace. When the day finally came and her mother died, my friend was inconsolable. She grieved deeply until her own death, just eighteen months later.

Grief is such a personal experience. We all grieve differently based on our personalities, relationship with the deceased, life experiences, and probably a host of other factors. And we grieve in our own time. Just because we have a warning that a loved one will die doesn’t mean we are prepared for the loss. No matter the relationship or the age, few people are ready to say goodbye. Each of us needs the time, space, and extended support to heal and, hopefully, find peace. 

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: Magdalena Roeseler via photopin

​Copyright Legacy.com Used with permission

Every Memorial Day, I look for red poppies; the crepe paper variety, sold by veterans. I usually find mine outside a grocery store. And I wear it all day.

The poppies evoke such a special time in my life that I usually find a visible place to display them long after the holiday. And when I see one around the house, it brings back vivid memories of my father and the Memorial Days we shared while I was a little girl.

My dad was a veteran of World War II and after his discharge was active in the local Veterans of Foreign War (VFW) post. Our local VFW sponsored our town’s Memorial Day parade. I never got to watch the parade; I got to participate in it.

Each year, my father drove a car with a veteran from World War I. It was a tribute for the veterans but also special for me; I got to ride in the back seat. Our small town put on quite a parade and I felt fortunate to be part of it.

After the parade, my father took me and my two siblings back to the VFW post. We’d play softball out back and there was always a cookout. I don’t know why, but my mom stayed home. This was a special opportunity for us three kids to have time with our dad; nowadays we would call it quality time. Years later, it was all the more poignant after his early death.

So every Memorial Day, and Veteran’s Day too, I search for the poppies. I love to share my story with the veterans I meet; and it’s important to support all the veterans who give so much for our country, even in this small way.

Those simple poppies make me feel a sense of patriotism along with a connection to my family roots. I get a little red flower to wear for the day while paying tribute to the veteran I knew best, my dad.

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, now available in three individual volumes: "Illness & Death," "Suicide" and "Miscarriage." Additional titles are available as e-books: "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. Click here to order.

Image Source: StockXchng/straymuse

Copyright www.Legacy.com  Used with permission