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, let 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.

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, 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 via stock.xchng / blary54

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, now available in nine e-books: 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. Click here to order.

​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.
​
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, now available in nine e-books: 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. Click here to order.

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. 

Photo: Magdalena Roeseler via photopin

​Copyright Legacy.com Used with permission

The death of a loved one brings significant change. We are no longer a spouse, parent, sibling, child, or friend. Life is completely thrown off course and every aspect of it is altered, including our social order, financial circumstances, and relationships. We view the world through a different lens and as we mourn our loved one, our perspective shifts.

Grieving a loss is like finding yourself caught in an emotional tsunami; everything seems out of control, with no notion of how to reign things in. It can feel as if you’re stumbling in the dark, searching for a calm port in a raging storm.

As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks become months, most of us begin to get a grip on things and start to find our footing. We realize we are adjusting and slowly reenter the world. But as we pick up the threads of our lives, we find one change that is difficult to absorb: Without our knowledge or consent, we have changed.

One bereaved spouse shares: “I miss the old me.” You might also be missing the mother, daughter, sibling, or friend you used to be. But maybe what you are pining for isn’t the old you, but the sheltered you. The you that did not know such pain existed; the you who did not know what it would feel like to be left fatherless, motherless, parent-less, sibling-less, spouse-less, or childless.

While we continue to mourn our loss, it becomes evident that life changes are inevitable. While moving through our grief we begin to see the possibility of positive outcomes. Coming face to face with life’s fragilities helps us focus on our priorities, recognizing what’s truly important. And while we might have lost the ability to see the world through rose-colored glasses, we have gained greater empathy for others facing loss.

You may be surprised to see that a new “me” emerges from your grief. The new me is just a different version of the old me, one that feels older and wiser. It will take time to adjust to the new me. Once you do, you’ll be in a place to make better decisions to move you forward. 

Photo: blavandmaster Out of the blue via photopin

copyright Legacy.com  Used with permission

​A friend sent an email with sad news. A young family she socialized with was bereaved. The dad died unexpectedly from a heart attack and she didn’t know what to do. Should she call? And if she did, what should she say?

In troubling times, it can be hard to know what to do. Do you call or respect one’s privacy and give friends time to cope? Do you send an email and offer assistance? And if you do reach out and are rebuffed, do you back off or try again?

It’s always appropriate to reach out and offer assistance, but be specific. Do they need help in picking someone up from the airport, a meal, errands, or someone to stay with the children?

​One of the kindest things you can do for the bereaved is to show up. Offer to visit for a short time. Enter the home, turn your cell phone off, and store your belongings. Then pay attention and listen. You can offer to help, but let your friend guide the way. If it’s a chore or errand, step in. If it’s company they need, sit quietly and be present. Your active presence is what is needed most, right now and in the weeks and months ahead. 

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 at a reduced price for e-books 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 credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/89165847@N00/16057342786">Teacher and Student 35 Years On</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/">(license)</a>