Friends Along The Road

Shut up and listen.

2012-02-01T22:56:00.002-07:00

As an advocate for the bereaved, I cannot speak for them, because each person experiences grief uniquely, but I can speak up for them. More importantly, I can shut up and listen.

I would like the world to listen to the bereaved instead of advising them. People grieving the deaths of loved ones, having been booted into a reality others cannot fathom, possess an awareness unknown to most. This is often interpreted as an illness needing healing when in fact it is wisdom about the fundamental nature of the universe.

New Year 2012: On Happiness

2012-01-14T23:00:00.001-07:00

Many people nowadays have a view of happiness that involves, essentially, "letting it all hang out." Those who are grieving the deaths of loved ones, however, may find it difficult to celebrate with abandon and wild glee: sobered by thoughts of those who are gone, and of all we have lost, we find the pleasure-seeking that used to seem so important now feels hollow, and not worthy of the pain we endure to get through each day of mourning.

There is another kind of happiness that I believe deserves consideration. It is a golden mean in which we do not seek the heights of joy, and avoid the lowest of the lows, by keeping an even keel. It involves living a life of integrity, keeping in mind the principles and values that are useful to the community and humankind, and maintaining a balance between the head and the heart. Doing the very best with whatever we have. In that way we have purpose, reason to keep going, and can feel a measure of satisfaction for what we are able to achieve.

We may still bottom out at times, and occasionally feel great joy, even ecstasy. Feeling joy is wonderful when it happens and it is a tremendous blessing! But for the most part, if we follow a generally middle path, we have real direction, and a greater chance, in my view, of making it through this indescribable thing called physical life.

What I am proposing is a coping-mechanism against the horror of our losses, yes, but I think it is a noble path. For me it is one I feel ever more drawn to follow, because I know that if I dwell continuously on my family's tragedy it will destroy me...and that has nearly happened three times. I will always be a grieving father. Part of me will always be screaming and raging against the universe. In fact, I have inside me a silent scream that shall remain, because it is seared into my essence. But the thought of others, of each of you, your precious lives, and the thought of what our lives might achieve together, gives me inspiration to channel my thoughts toward you, and toward helping this earth-life be better for all of us. The grief will never leave me, nor do I want it to, but at least I have a means of being useful, and that gives me the chance for another kind of happiness: one that feels more authentic.

I wish all of you a very blessed new year. Together we can help it be a better one than any of us has ever known.

Dave, FAR
December 31, 2011

September 11 Attacks: First and Foremost About the Families and Friends

2011-09-09T21:01:00.008-06:00

The following note expresses my own opinions and not necessarily those of the Friends Along the Road organization. - Dave Pierce

Friends along my road, the 10th anniversary of the September 11, 2001 attacks is upon us, and for several days now I have been monitoring bereavement sites on Facebook and throughout the Internet, as well as television and print news outlets, to see how they are focusing on it, how they are narrowing down topics to carve news stories out of it, presenting various viewpoints, and generally trying to sift meaning from the event's ever-recycled rubble. There are myriad human interest pieces, thoughtful reflections, hopeful suggestions, statist pronouncements, angry declarations, dark theories and counter-theories, and some caring sympathy pieces. All I know is that I am and always have been terribly sad for the families and friends of those who were killed or maimed, and for all of us, who grieve and hurt in many ways because of what happened - and the resonance of it that continues through our lives.

As with you, I know that the images I saw on TV that day are with me for life. But also with me is what I saw happen after, following closely the words of the president, the coverage by the media, and regarding it all from the perspective of someone attuned to grieving and support of those in grief. Astonishingly, the families were not immediately offered consolation by officials, and other agendas were forced to the front of our attention. But for me it is, first, about the families and friends of those who died.

Second, it is about the rest of us.

A few years after the attacks, I had as a regular passenger in the airport transportation van I drove a New York City fire chief whose knee was destroyed by a falling body part; this kind man's story, shared with me then, personalized everything and made me realize that we had all been injured. I realized that shock-waves from the attacks had spread outward, to the world.

Much focus has been placed through the years on who dunnit, but my focus will continue to be on the families, on the lives of all who died, and on all of us who continue to live through 9-11, including the first responders, the citizens of New York, and, indirectly, everyone in the world.

I may have more to say on this topic but welcome your thoughts, from a bereavement perspective.

Move on from Grief? You Don't Have To.

2011-04-20T20:39:00.019-06:00

Your grief is your own and no one has the right to say otherwise. No one should ever tell you it is time to move on. The anguish you feel may bum out family members and friends, and be seen as a challenge to psychiatrists and grief counselors, but if you do not feel like moving on you don't have to. If that fact inconveniences others it is their problem.

Now, please understand: Many therapists, counselors, and peers provide excellent support for those in grief. They would never insist that anyone in grief needs to “move on.” They might prove very resourceful should you seek their help understanding your grief, learning to live with it, working through it, finding your place in the world. It is not to these fine individuals that I speak.

Nor do I speak for every person in grief. How could I? Each person grieves in his or her own way. Me too. It is my own grief that prompts me to write that I have no intention of moving on from the complicated feelings I have about the death of my daughter, my only child. I hurt, I cry, I laugh, I love, I grow. I live. Moving “past”or “beyond” my grief – or getting over it - is not part of this picture.

Some in deep grief have a strong desire for an end to their pain. For whatever reason – unquenchable optimism, a religious conviction that God will provide healing, a powerful spiritual experience, a need to do what their deceased loved ones “would want them to do,” or because they have families to take care of and feel the need to appear “normal” – some people in grief are drawn to healing. They wish to move on.

“Being healed” and “moving on” from grief is fine if that is one's choice.

Others, however, hold tight to grief. Their losses are too great for them to consider “letting go.” Faced with such primal questions as whether they should stay alive after losing the ones they lived for, these bereaved parents, children, siblings, cousins, spouses, aunts and uncles, grandparents, and friends, find that the everyday assumptions they held before death struck seem now to lack meaning and immediacy. Going to job? Being productive? Being a good consumer, a model family member, a team player? Such notions can seem suddenly empty and bizarre to those who have lost the loves of their lives. To some in grief, society itself can appear as a meaningless accretion, a game people play that allows them to almost never face the fact that they and all their loved ones will someday die.

Death and grief can bring about, in some, the need for profound reappraisal of all they once took for granted. It can stimulate speculation of the most existential kind. Whereas before the loss of their precious ones they never gave much thought about the fundamental assumptions of culture and society, and even existence itself, they might now be pondering such thoughts as, “Should I carry on? Why? Are there compelling reasons for me to do so? If there are such reasons, how do I find them?”

For those drawn to face considerations as serious as life itself, thoughts about “getting over” one's grief, “moving on,” and “being healed” may never enter their minds; and if they do, may seem like absurd notions from another universe. To some they may seem like further torment to be endured for the sake of others.

What's more, the extreme, off-the-charts emotional pain of a loved one's death, based in raw immeasurable love, may come to be the most significant connection one might feel with the deceased, and be a very compelling reason to stay alive. Precious by virtue of intensity and association.

The death of a loved one – a child let us say - can be the single most potent event in a person's life; it may not eclipse the importance of the child's birth, but love for the child, and memories of the child's birth and participation in the world, may actually intensify the parents' feelings of loss and pain by alluding to all that has been lost, creating a massive confusion of feelings both wonderful and hellish. Compared with the stark and brutal reality of a loved one's death, most everything else in life may appear trivial. The world may seem crazy, insensate, with its machine-like tendency to move around and around on its axis and circle the Sun; and its people – focused a great deal on the pursuit of pleasure (at least in several of the developed nations) – can seem to embody the very idea of meaninglessness.

The pain of grief can sometimes seem the only thing the bereaved have to hold onto. And why shouldn't they hold on? Who else has the right to say they shouldn't – that they are “sick,” that they need treatment, that they need to be “healed”?

Grief can be a powerful connection with our dead loved ones. Sacred. Something that can be explored anew each day in an attempt to connect more deeply with the lives of our dead, and to search through for reasons why we are given life only to have it inevitably snatched away. The continuous and ever-changing nature of the way we honor dead family members and friends, and the central questions of existence we explore as we grieve, may either kill us or give us strength to carry on. And no one else is in a position to decide these things for us, unless of course we want them to, and they are willing to try.

Psychiatrists, bereavement counselors, clergy, family members, and friends may view our attachment to grief as a pathology, an illness, a morbid and unhealthy condition to be “treated.” In fact the latest revision (2000) of the DSM IV – the (1994) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders of the American Psychiatric Association – retains dangerous, hurtful, foolish language to the effect that any grief lasting beyond two months is “atypical.” This gives members of the medical and healing communities the false justification they may be looking for in order to apply healing to those in grief – possibly the worst approach, in many cases, such as with grief over the death of an only child. Parents who have lost children (and there are many other scenarios of loss that apply) may be harmed immeasurably by a society that would have them “get beyond” the deaths of their children.

As if we can shut off the most intense emotions of our entire lives like turning off a hot-water spigot! As if the lives and memories of our loved ones are less important than our former culturally-sanctioned pursuits of making money and contributing to the GNP! This prevailing medical view of long-term grief as an “illness” is perhaps our Western society's greatest example of the avoidance of death, and demonstrates that society itself may be the sick entity, based as it is on the spurious assumptions of a largely consumerist, death-avoiding culture.

Thank goodness that enlightened members of the bereavement community are working hard so the APA will eliminate this disastrous language in the DSM V, due out in 2013. It is something we need to follow up on; we must keep up pressure on the APA to instead use language explaining that experiences of grief are unique for each person, and may have no limits on duration or intensity.

The bereaved individual might be quite the opposite of sick: it is possible that, in being led by severe grief to question the tenets of existence, he or she is having an awakening of sorts. Remember the science fiction movie “They Live,” in which the guy finds a pair of sunglasses that allow him to see what the messages really say on signs, television, and food-packaging? Things like, “Consume;” “Stay Asleep;” “Submit to Authority.” Everyone else thinks he's crazy – until they too put on the glasses and see for themselves.

Many in our society, including some bereavement counselors, are like those citizens in the movie who blithely maintain their socially-approved views of life until they themselves put on the glasses, which reveal conditions shockingly different from anything they ever imagined. When the glasses of grief are worn, they can make apparent such unnoticed yet persistent assumptions as, "Deny Death," "Get Over Your Grief," "Appear Happy No Matter What."

When the bereaved do hold onto their grief, learning just how much they love and wish to honor their deceased loved ones – and when they use these feelings and thoughts as springboards for reevaluating their lives – they may find that they have no intentions of submitting to any predefined notions of how one should grieve. That is quite alright. Their awakenings may be deeply personal, and they may conclude, rightly, that family members, friends, and therapists do not have the right to interfere with their discoveries, unless of course the bereaved are intending to physically harm themselves, or others.

If those who love you say that they want the “old you” back, or suggest it's time for you to "move on," thinking they know what's best for you, you needn't give in to their entreaties even though you love them, too, and don't wish them to suffer. Their grief is secondary grief, and you, as the primary person in grief, should not have to bear their grief for you on top of what you already have. Doing so creates a kind of secondary grief in yourself, as well.

At Friends Along the Road, we will never suggest that people should “move on,” "get over” their grief, or “be healed.” If healing is what our clients truly want, then this is wonderful and we will gratefully provide them with resources, including referrals to qualified therapists and counselors who specialize in healing options for the bereaved. But if the clients want to fully explore the loss of their loved ones at their own speed, in their own ways, then we will offer them safe places – temporary or permanent – in which to do so. We regard each person's grief as a sacred event, something possibly far more precious than fitting back into society as a good worker/consumer, and we believe that each grieving individual has the potential to write his or her best manual on grieving.

Sometimes, the best thing to do to help those in grief is to make them as safe and comfortable as possible, be present for them to the extent they desire, and get out of their way while they make their own journeys of discovery. Will this enable all our clients to emerge from grief as better, more sensitive and caring, more whole individuals? Or to even emerge? No. But we won't be attempting to control experiences that are essentially their own. By allowing them to simply grieve, in the ways only they can know are best for them, they may actually decide to live. In some cases to live more fully. And in the best possible outcomes, to surprise everyone with their transformations. Who knows what to expect? I certainly don't. By not expecting, we allow the possibility of the wonderfully unexpected.

To learn more about sanctuary and caring support for those in grief, and about creating Sanctuary Anywhere for the grieving, please visit Friends Along the road on the Internet at www.friendsalongtheroad.org.

Grieving is NOT a Process

2011-04-11T22:23:00.001-06:00

To hell with "the grieivng process." Grief does not have to follow any sort of process. "Process" implies a linear continuum, with a clearly delineated start and finish. People in grief - especially severe grief - rarely experience such tidy bereavement. In reality, grief can be messy, going in all sorts of different directions, and doesn't give a damn about process or clunky psychiatric definitions. And that's okay. The notion of what grief is becomes expanded with each new experience of it.

YOU, a stranger in a strange land, may define your own style of grieving by living it. Take as long as you wish - the rest of your life, if you want to. Shake your fist at the sky, scream at the moon, run like an animal naked through the forest. Or be silent and dwell within. Carve the face of your loved one out of a mountaintop boulder. Take a trip, go for long walks and drives. Sleep for weeks. Have lucid dreams. Make the world your church. Cry every day, hard, for two years. Sail a small boat to the tropics. Write a book. Learn how to make your own mayonnaise. Throw paint at canvasses. Whatever! Just don't be concerned about following any process. Be depressed when you want to, sing when you want to, talk to yourself, go to poetry slams, float in the kiddie pool all day, have your wife make an ice cream sundae on your head.

Just do it your way. And by doing so, who knows - maybe you'll find reasons to keep going. By doing so, you'll expand the possibilities of living, not only for yourself, but for all of us, giving us the inspiration to explore this indefinable, painful, sacred experience as each of us sees fit. As each of us deserves. And the great Book of Life will add chapters for every single human being, chapters that are part of the ever-evolving manual, the only manual on bereavement that is worthy of reading.

Grieve! Live! You! Here! Now!

Values and Vision of Friends Along the Road

2010-06-26T23:36:00.003-06:00

Free to copy print & distribute. Not for commercial use. Changes prohibited. ©2007 Friends Along the Road Inc.

ON GRIEVING

1. Each person's experience of grief is unique and precious.

2. Grief may be of any intensity, and may last for any amount of time.

3. It is okay to display strong emotion, or none at all.

4. It is okay to refuse the sentiments of others.

5. Some in grief may seek comfort in religion and spirituality. Some may seek comfort in non-religious contexts. Others may not wish to be comforted at a given time.

6. Making a person as emotionally safe and physically comfortable as possible is sometimes the best way to help.

7. It is okay for those in grief to seek healing or resolution, or to not.

8. Family and friends may feel sad that their loved one is grieving. Such secondary grief is real and painful but the primary griever cannot be expected to understand this or have to deal with it.

9. Healing, resolution, and the achievement of positive frames of reference may be possible for those in grief. Caring support can help.

F.A.R.S.I.G.N.

FRIENDS ALONG THE ROAD SANCTUARY
FOR THOSE IN GRIEF NETWORK

* A FAR sanctuary is a place of refuge and caring.

* Offering sanctuary is an act of compassion, not an obligation.

* Sanctuary may benefit those providing it as well as those receiving it. We grow through love.

* Sanctuary can last for a minute, or it can last forever. It's the quality of sanctuary, not its duration or place, that defines it.

* Caring emotional support includes trying not to judge what another person should be feeling, or for how long.

* Giving food, extending shelter, or other resources in a sanctuary is neither required nor discouraged.

* By creating any sanctuary, no matter how modest, we help to create a society having the qualities we demonstrate.

* By making connections and referrals to other sanctuaries, we are able to extend refuge and caring farther on down the road.

What to Say - and Not to Say - to Those in Grief [Regular Version]

2010-06-17T22:23:00.007-06:00

Note: This is a version of my post, "What to Say to Those in Grief [Extended Version]." -Dave

It can be terribly difficult - scary, even - to know what to say to those in grief, because this requires taking a serious look at death. Sometimes, words simply won't come. Silence is not an ideal approach to comforting someone in grief, but it is an improvement over catchwords that might be uttered more for one's own convenience than for truly expressing sympathy.

Yet there is help: there are things you can say to those in grief that might be comforting, and things to avoid.

Knowing what to say to those in grief may not help them feel better. However, your words and actions just might make a positive difference. Saying the right things might help you feel better, too.

Certain words and phrases should be avoided when expressing sympathy for those in grief.

Do not say anything that implies limits on the duration or intensity of grief. Grief is its own phenomenon, unique for each experiencer: it is messy, it happens in its own time and space, it can be mild as two weeks of sadness or as intense as an eternity of suffering. Grief can last for a lifetime, and that is okay. For who can speak for another's loss and say just how it should be experienced?

Avoid catch phrases such as, "Time heals all." First of all, such phrases sound contrived. Second, they are often untrue: for example, time does not necessarily heal grief. The bereaved have every right to grieve as long as necessary without having the trip laid on them of "getting over it."

Never say to the bereaved, "I know how you feel." You may think you know how they feel, because you too may have lost a beloved family member or friend, but actually, that was your experience of grief, not theirs. Each person grieves in his or her own way. Don't make the conversation about yourself; keep it focused on their loss, not yours.

I have heard people say to those in deep grief that the death of a loved one "...is God's will." Just about nothing can upset a person in grief more than these words. When we lose those most precious to us, we may wonder why God could possibly allow their deaths. The idea that God would "take" someone to satisfy a whim is abominable. Whether or not you and/or the bereaved individual are religious, leave the topic of God out of expression of sympathy, unless the bereaved person brings it up; and if that is the case, you are on your own.

"You are doing so well" is another phrase to avoid. Do you live in that person's head or heart? For all you know he or she may look okay but be contemplating suicide. Do not add expectations of "doing well" to those already so burdened with the loss of their loved ones that they may be feeling like death themselves. Don't push your expectations on them; simply allow them their grief.

Do not say, "Be brave" or "Be strong." Who cares about bravery when faced with such essential questions as, "my child is dead. Should I live or die?"

You might find yourself saying, "Others have lived through it and so can you." This statement is possibly dangerous: someone who has just lost his or her beloved child, brother or sister, mother or father, grandparent, or best friend might feel so close to death already that he or she is pushed over the edge by being told they can "get through it." Hopefully a choice of life will be the answer - but this is something with which someone must personally come to terms.

Avoid talking about "Stages of Grieving." Elizabeth Kubler-Ross never meant for her "stages" theory to be taken as literally as it has in regard to bereavement, later writing that grief happens in its own time and fashion, and cannot always be neatly resolved. There are some great insights in Kubler-Ross' work, but it just isn't appropriate to saddle someone with the expectation that grief occurs in pre-defined stages, with an ultimate outcome of acceptance.

"Grieving is a process" also sounds absurdly cold and mechanical, and leaves no room for unexpected, spontaneous experiences of grief that do not conform to any preset theory, and may be surprisingly essential, somehow, in learning to live with one's grief.

Be assurred, though: you can offer effective comfort to those in grief.

It's often okay if the wrong words come out to a person suffering intense grief. Though he or she may be most vulnerable to indiscretions of sympathy in the early days of grief, most grieving individuals understand how hard it is for the rest of the world to be truly sympathetic. Most of them have been in your shoes at some point: they tend to cut slack to those who don't know the right things to say. They tend to realize that you are trying your best, in your own way, to be helpful, and will accept the positive feeling behind the message.

So don't struggle with your words. And if no words come out at all - just squeaks, perhaps - a hug or handshake can work wonders.

Sometimes, simple statements are the best. For example: "Margaret, I am so terribly sorry that Jim died, and I already miss him like crazy. I am sad for you, for the pain you may be feeling."

Short, direct statements of support may be the easiest to swallow for those overwhelmed by loss and grief. Reflections on spirituality and philosophy may be too challenging and should be avoided until such time as the grieving person expresses an interest in these topics.

Basic statements expressing sorrow for the loss, accepting the grieving person's sorrow, and offering support can be soothing.

Speak from the heart. A spontaneous expression of your own feelings, simply put, can provide genuine comfort. This may not seem an easy thing to do; it may seem impossible, especially if you do not share the bereaved person's sorrow over his or her loss.

Here's what to do. Look inside yourself to a time when you experienced a serious loss, and think about what you would have liked people to say to you - if anything. Remember how you felt when your loved one passed away. As you remember the hurt of your own loss, it will allow you - sometimes suddenly - to feel genuine sympathy for the person with whom you are trying to communicate. You won't feel what the sufferer feels, for grieving is unique to each person, but the sense of loss in general, and the feeling of real sorrow, will help guide you toward authentic expressions of caring support. It will even be reflected in your body language and thus unconsciously - or consciously - communicated to the person in grief.

Do talk about the person who has died, if it seems appropriate. Often, family and friends of the bereaved are reluctant to mention the name of the deceased, either because they are afraid of bumming out the person in grief, or because it inconveniently reminds the person offering sympathy of his or her own mortality. But often, those who have lost a family member adore talking about them, and it hurts when their family and friends will not.

If the grieving person/family seems able to listen for a moment, consider offering to do whatever you reasonably can to help.

"Sid, Janet is going to watch the kids for you and I'll take care of the lawn."

You may offer support in a variety of ways - buying groceries, walking the dogs, making yourself available at any time for a call - but be prepared to back up what you say. Feel out the situation and try to determine what sort of realistic help to offer and/or provide.

While there are phrases that should be avoided when speaking with those in grief, there are certainly ways of offering sanctuary at that very moment and showing caring support. There are many resources available, not just for the bereaved, but for caregivers and support workers, and the general public.

For more information, and to learn how to offer Sanctuary Anywhere, please visit the Friends Along the Road website.

What to Say - and Not to Say - to Those in Grief [Extended Version]

2010-06-13T00:37:00.018-06:00

People seem fundamentally predisposed to avoid thinking about death and grief. This capacity for denial is especially true in the U.S. and U.K., where death is trivialized through dark humor and considered through the perspective of slasher films - a kind of pornography of death that allows us to symbolically triumph over it for 90 minutes without actually taking it seriously.

In certain Asian, African, and Latin societies, and in Norway, people tend to be less uncomfortable with the idea of death, and more spontaneous and genuine about celebrating the lives of those who have moved on.

Death is our greatest taboo, more so even than sex during the Victorian era.

Most Americans do everything they can to resist consideration of their eventual deaths. This great denial is achieved largely through pleasure-seeking, and includes the endless pursuit of sex, gourmet meals, shopping, video games, watching television, listening to music, texting and tweeting, unending fascination with every aspect of sports, incessant body-building, collecting things, and so on. Every day our culture finds new ways to distract us from the fact that each of us will, at some point, die, and that each of us will lose loved ones.

Our denial of death is a practical defense mechanism. And of course we need to eat, make love, shop, exercise, and so forth. Yet carried to the extreme of Western-style pleasure-pursuit, avoidance of death-awareness cripples our ability to truly live. When we are unable to face the mortifying, inevitable fact of physical death, we are like sleep-walkers following programmed instructions that hinder our abilities to be genuine and effective in times of loss and grief.

When faced with the fact of someone's death, we are often so stunned or horrified that we just don't know what to say to family and friends of the deceased. Sometimes, we find ourselves uttering catchwords such as, "I understand what you are going through," or "Time heals all," or "God had a reason for taking your loved one." These statements are drivel that can do more harm than good.

Sometimes, we are so unbalanced by the situation of someone's grief that we say nothing - words simply won't come, and we find ourselves standing there feeling idiotic. This is not an ideal response to someone's grief, but it is an improvement over trite phrases that might be uttered more for our own convenience than for truly expressing sympathy.

Yes, it can be terribly difficult - scary, even - to consider what to say to those in grief, because this requires taking a serious look at death. It can seem impossible to look death in the face, if one has not experienced the loss of a loved one. Yet there is help: even if you are not ready to confront the fact of your own mortality, and wake up from your denial of death, there are things you can say to those in grief that may be helpful. There are also statements to avoid.

Knowing what to say to those in grief may not help them feel better. When you have just lost the one you lived for, you may find yourself in a different universe, and everything and everyone around you may seem incomprehensibly alien. Yet it could be, too, that your thoughtful actions just might make a positive difference in their lives. Saying the right thing might help you feel better, too.

Certain words and phrases should be avoided when expressing sympathy for those in grief.

Do not say anything that implies limits on the duration or intensity of grief. Grief is not an illness, no matter how many well-meaning but misguided psychiatrists have tried to pathologize it. It is not something that can be treated with triage. There are no bandages for the loss of someone you love.

Grief is its own phenomenon, unique for each experiencer: it is messy, it happens in its own time and space, it can be mild as two weeks of sadness or as intense as disintegration for an eternity in the sun's corona. Grief can last for a lifetime in every moment, at uncharted intensity, and that does not make it any sort of mental illness. For who can speak for another's loss and say just how it should be experienced?

Each person in grief is the true expert on how to grieve. It is perhaps a sacred experience, and the most any of us can do is try to make the sufferer as safe and comfortable as possible, then get out of the way as he or she teaches us what it means to be alive.

Avoid catch phrases such as, "Time heals all." First of all, it sounds contrived, plastic, stated for your own convenience so you can get the hell out of the wake as quickly as possible. Secondly, it is untrue. For example, time does NOT necessarily heal grief - for, as stated above, the bereaved have every right to grieve as long as necessary without having the trip laid on them of "getting over it."

Never say to the bereaved, "I know how you feel." You may think you know how they feel, because you too may have lost a beloved family member or friend, but actually, that was your experience of grief, not theirs. Each person grieves in his or her own way. Don't make the conversation about yourself; keep it focused on their loss, not yours.

I have often heard people say, to me and to others in deep grief, that the death of a loved one "...is God's will." Just about nothing can upset a person in grief more than these words. When we lose those most precious to us, we may wonder why God could possibly allow their deaths. It seems wrong! Cruel! Unacceptable!

The idea that God would "take" someone to satisfy a personal whim is abominable. Whether or not you and/or the bereaved individual are religious, leave the topic of God out of expression of sympathy, unless the bereaved person brings it up; and if that is the case, you are on your own.

"You are doing so well" is another phrase to avoid. Do you live in that person's head or heart? For all you know he or she may look okay but be contemplating suicide. Do not add expectations of "doing well" to those already so burdened with the loss of their loved ones, the funeral arrangements (a dreadful experience), the memorial service, etc., that they are probably feeling like death themselves. Don't push your expectations on them; simply allow them their grief.

Do not say, "Be brave" or "Be strong." Who cares about bravery when faced with such essential questions as, "my child is dead. Should I live or die?"

You might find yourself saying, "Others have lived through it and so can you." This thoughtless statement is possibly dangerous: someone who has just lost his or her beloved child, brother or sister, mother or father, grandparent, or best friend might feel so close to death already that he or she is pushed over the edge by being told they can "get through it."

Maybe that person doesn't want to get through it! Whether or not to continue when confronted by life's worst moments is an entirely personal decision. Hopefully he or she will decide to hold on to life - but this is something with which someone must personally come to terms.

While doctors and nurses are guided by the Hippocratic oath to seek healing for us, "healing" is not something that should be pressed on someone in grief. The pain of deep grief, though unfathomably awful, can be a critical connection to those we have lost. Like Linus with his blanket, we should be able to hold on to our grief as long as we feel necessary, without Lucy trying to bury it.

Healing can be achieved, yes, but only if and when the bereaved is ready, at his or her own pace. A more reasonable alternative path to consider - one which I have chosen - is learning to live with my grief. I have no desire to get over it or "be healed." My grief has changed me like a bath in alchemical fire, and I'll never be the person I was before my daughter's death. Nor do I wish to be. My grief motivates me to keep living so that I may be of service to others in grief. I'll be damned if I'll "get through it" in order to please others.

"Your loved one has lived to a ripe old age. At least she had a long and eventful life!" Yeah, I have heard this one quite often when people are trying to console those in grief. But does the fact that someone had a long life necessarily make the relative's grief any less? Your grandmother may have lived to be 111, but still, she was the one who raised you when your mom and dad ran off, she was your best friend, and she made great sacrifices for you. If she was suffering badly before her death, it is of course fine to be grateful that she is now out of pain, but one shouldn't try to dredge sympathetic meaning out of the fact that someone died at an old age. That person is gone, and the physical absence hurts.

Avoid talking about "The Stages of Grieving." This lays another huge trip on those in grief. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross never meant for her "stages" theory to be taken so literally in regard to bereavement, later writing that grief happens in its own time and fashion, and cannot always be tied up neatly. There are some great insights in Kubler-Ross' work, but it just isn't appropriate to saddle someone with the expectation that grief occurs in pre-defined stages, with an ultimate outcome of acceptance.

"Grieving is a process" also sounds absurdly cold and mechanical, and leaves no room for unexpected, spontaneous experiences of grief that do not conform to any preset theory, and may be surprisingly essential, somehow, in the way a person learns to live with his or her grief.

A phrase that I find annoying, if not especially inappropriate, is: "You have my condolences." Why does this very common, almost universally accepted phrase, bother me? Because it is an abstraction, one step removed from an actual expression of sympathy. What are condolences? They are a statement that you wish to offer sympathy. So why can't we just say, "I am sorry for your loss," and thereby express sympathy directly? Why hide behind an intention to express sympathy instead of simply stating the sympathy itself? Would we say to someone on their birthday, "I express my intention to wish you a happy birthday"? Of course not. We would simply say, "Happy birthday."

Be assured, however, that there are positive and effective approaches you can take when talking with those in grief..

It's often okay if the wrong words come out at a funeral, memorial service, wake, or at any time to a person suffering intense grief. Though they may be most vulnerable to sympathy faux pas in the early days, months, and years of grief, most grieving individuals understand how hard it is for the rest of the world to be truly sympathetic. Most of them have been in your shoes at some point: they tend to cut slack to those who don't know the right things to say. They tend to realize that you are trying your best, in your own way, to be helpful, and will accept the positive feeling behind the message.

So don't struggle with your words. And if no words come out at all - just squeaks, perhaps - a hug or handshake can work wonders.

Sometimes, simple statements are the best. For example: "Margaret, I am so terribly sorry that Jim died, and I already miss him like crazy. I am sad for you, for the pain you may be feeling."

Short, direct statements of support may be the easiest to swallow for those overwhelmed by loss and grief. Complex ideas may be confusing. Challenging concepts such as spirituality and philosophy should be avoided until such time as the grieving person expresses an interest in them. Early on, heavy thoughts may be too much to process - especially if he or she is so ruined by grief that even getting out of bed, going to the bathroom, dressing, or eating, seem inconceivable.

Probably, the only thoughts a person in the early days of grief can handle are whether to live or die, and wondering how to take care of the family when leaving the bedroom seems out of the question.

I have come across individuals who were so anxious about pressing their own opinions of grieving on me, in the guise of proving me support, that I almost ran away. Once, in a doctor's office, a nurse's aid who had learned of the loss of my daughter instantly turned the conversation around so that it was about herself and the loss of her distant relative. She babbled at a high speed about time-tables, getting over it, and moving on, and I felt trapped with her in the tiny exam room. Her words ran together unintelligibly in my mind. Was she just talking to fill some personal emptiness - to avoid facing the fact of her own impending death?

All I could think about was strangling her to shut her up, as Homer Simpson does to Bart. Had she given me a short and direct statement of sympathy, I wouldn't have had the panic attack.

Basic statements expressing sorrow for the loss, accepting the grieving person's sorrow, and offering support can be soothing.

Speak from the heart. A spontaneous expression of your own feelings, simply put, can provide genuine comfort. This may not seem an easy thing to do; in fact it may seem impossible, especially if you do not share the bereaved person's sorrow over theirhis or her loss.

Here's what to do. Look inside yourself to a time when you experienced a serious loss, and think about what you would have liked people to say to you - if anything. Remember how you felt when your father, mother, sister, brother, grandparent, aunt, uncle, cousin, best friend, favorite teacher, or pet passed away. As you remember the terrible hurt of your own loss, it will allow you - sometimes suddenly - to feel genuine sympathy for the person with whom you are trying to communicate. You won't feel what the sufferer feels, for grieving is unique to each person, but the sense of loss in general, and the feeling of real sorrow, will help guide you toward authentic expressions of caring support. It will even be reflected in your body language and thus unconsciously - or consciously - communicated to the person in grief.

If you can, look the grieving person in the eyes. But don't force your gaze. If the person looks down or away, just realize that the intensity of your sympathy is too overwhelming to deal with at the moment, no matter how genuine and well expressed.

Do talk about the person who has died, if it seems appropriate. Often, family and friends of the bereaved are reluctant to mention the name of the deceased, either because they are afraid of bumming out the person in grief, or because it inconveniently reminds the person offering sympathy of his or her own mortality. But often, those who have lost a family member adore talking about them, and it hurts when their family and friends will not. Silence about a deceased loved one can seem almost as if others have erased that person from their pasts, that a significant life never existed.

If the grieving person/family seems able to listen for a moment, consider offering to do whatever you reasonably can to help.

"Sid, Janet is going to watch the kids for you and I'll take care of the lawn."

You may offer support in a variety of ways - buying groceries, walking the dogs, making yourself available at any time for a call - but be prepared to back up what you say. In some cases it might just be better to do some of these things; Judy and I will always be grateful for the neighbors who appeared out of nowhere during our tragedy and brought food, trimmed the palm trees, and gave us moral support. One large, muscular policeman stopped by just to give me a fierce hug - and we wept in each other's arms! Feel out the situation and try to determine what sort of help to offer and/or provide - or not, depending on how the grieving party are feeling.

While there are phrases that should be avoided when speaking with those in grief, there are certainly ways of offering sanctuary at that very moment and showing caring support. There are many resources available, not just for the bereaved, but for caregivers and support workers, and the general public.

For more information, and to learn how to offer Sanctuary Anywhere, please visit the Friends Along the Road website.

Living Among Headstones: Spending the Night Alone at Lilli's Grave

2010-06-06T21:16:00.006-06:00

Picked up a book at the library called, Living Among Headstones: Life in a Country Cemetery, by Shannon Applegate. It's just my kind of a read. I'll tell you why in a moment. First, here's the inside-cover blurb:

"In 1997, Shannon Applegate was bequeathed a small cemetery in western Oregon. The neglected five acres were not only the burial site for generations of her family but also the resting place for many in the nearby, down-on-its-luck logging town. Living Among Headstones chronicles the author's experiences as sexton of this sacred land: she finds herself plotting gaves, consoling families, and confronting the funeral industry.

"Filled with humor, singular events, pathos, and unexpected smiles - and written in a meditative tone that is beautifully complemented by dozens of photos scattered throughout the text and by lovely watercolors by the author's sister - Living Among Headstones is more than a memoir of one woman's experience at a rural cemetery; it is an expansive look at how death has been treated through the centuries, and a meditation on how we long for our loved ones to have a continuing place in our world. Ultimately, as the author and we learn, only an understanding of death can give us an appreciation of life."

This appeals to me because I am fascinated by cemeteries, and like the Bud Cort character of the film Harold and Maude, I spend time in them whenever I can. After our daughter Lilli died in 1999, I came to treasure cemeteries as being wondrous places that are not spooky, but are sacred places housing the physical remains of loved ones as well as history, architecture, and beautiful artistic tributes made by family members and friends.

A year or so after Lilli died, Judy and I were traveling around the country on our Looking for Lilli Tour, and when we were in Dillon, Colorado, I had an overwhelming desire to spend the night at Lilli's grave, which is in an idyllic setting in the forest, looking out over Lake Dillon and up to the Gore Range. First, I obtained permission from the local police and the cemetery society, who saw no harm in what I was doing; they realized that I wasn't some morbid weirdo, but that I just needed to be close to Lilli in this way. Also, by letting them know, it spared me being arrested during the night.

The evening was wonderful: clear skies, cool, with a slight breeze that soughed among stones and bushes. I made friends with a fiesty squirrel who at first saw me as competition for the nuts and seeds beside Lilli's headstone. I walked all through the cemetery, reading the inscriptions on just about every stone, and feeling like I was getting to know these people a little. Their families, too. I marveled at the artistic, poetic tributes that no one but family will ever see, because most people are freaked out by cemeteries and can't be paid to go near them. Then I sat at Lilli's grave for hours, playing my wooden recorder, singing impromptu songs to Lilli, talking to her spirit, crying sometimes, laughing sometimes, and even asking any resident spirits to make her feel welcome.

After that I slept. Ever since, I have enjoyed visiting cemeteries and also looking at those roadside markers alongside highways, where people have been killed. I want to KNOW about these individuals. Each one was unique, with a story.

Lately, with our non-profit Friends Along the Road, we have been tossing around the idea of using corporate funds when they are available to purchase some older cemeteries that the owners may no longer be able to take care of, and sort of fix them up. What's more, some of us in FAR are interested in the natural burial movement, and I would like to find places to have "green" cemeteries.

Death and burial customs from around the world are quite interesting to me, and I am making it an area of special study. I believe, as does author Applegate, that only by coming to terms with death can we really begin to live.

Love, Dave

Friends Along the Road: Creating Sanctuary for Those in Grief

2010-06-05T20:52:00.000-06:00

Like you're in a different universe from everyone: that's how it can feel after the death of a family member or friend.

How can the world go on as if everything is normal, when this precious, unique individual, is suddenly gone? How can the focus on commerce and working be more important than the loss of even a single individual? Especially when you aren't even sure if you, yourself, wish to continue?

These are questions that my wife, Judy, and I were challenged by after our 14-year-old daughter, Lillian Marie Pierce - Lilli - was killed in November of 1999 while crossing a street in Cape Coral, Florida.

Only four months after we'd moved from our home of Silverthorne, Colorado, to start exciting new lives in Southwest Florida (at the time, houses there were cheap, and the thought of sun and surf seemed appealing), Lilli was struck by a car and killed instantly. In a way, Judy and I also died that night, and have never been the same -- nor will we be. Nor do we wish to be. That's how we came to create our non-profit public charity, Friends Along the Road.

Friends Along the Road -- FAR -- a 501 (c)(3) corporation, came into being because Judy and I needed sanctuary in which to safely grieve, and couldn't find what our psyches craved, except for the blessed, much-appreciated short-term safe spaces created by family, friends, and even strangers, which helped show us find our way to FAR.

I was in real estate on Sanibel Island. Judy was working in another professional capacity. But after Lilli died, our hearts just weren't in our jobs anymore.

Some weeks after Lilli's funeral, in Dillon, Colorado, we tried to go back to our jobs in Florida but just couldn't. Things that we all take for granted, such as making money, suddenly seemed pointless. And chatter in our offices by other employees was often painful to us, such as how they couldn't wait to get away from their kids and spouses. Or when they casually joked about people being killed.

We were blessed with some money, a luxury that most people in deep grief do not have, and so we bought a fifth-wheel trailer, told our bosses to go to hell, and spent the next two years traveling the back roads of the U.S. and a bit of Southern Canada. With no itinerary and lots of time, we were able to do much soul-searching. Also, we benefited from the kindness and wisdom of family members, friends, and new friends we met along the way. After a while we came to realize that sometimes the best thing you can do for people in extreme grief is to make them as safe and comfortable as possible, and get out of their way.

By the third year we'd spent all our money - we were flat broke, actually - but felt good about our vision of doing something to help people in deep grief. Judy went to work for a convenience store. I ferried people to and from Fort Myers International Airport in a 15-passenger Ford van, working 50 to 90 hours a week. The two of us, and our cat, struggled to make it in a tiny one-bedroom apartment in a questionable neighborhood. Nevertheless, Friends Along the Road was born and immediately, we became rich in spirit.

For one thing, I found that rides with my passengers, sometimes lasting an hour or even several, provided excellent opportunities for creating create safe places, and I was often rewarded by priceless stories of how others had learned to live with their grief. These passengers too were -- and are -- our friends along the road.

Judy became well liked by the customers who frequented the little store, and often, they felt comfortable enough with her to share their tragedies. The stories would just come out without Judy having said a word. She has a presence that inspires people to be themselves.

Together, and with our board members, we started FAR, established an online presence, and, in our spare time, began doing our real work.

For eight years, FAR has been creating safe places for people on the Internet, through the mail, and in person: we have an active website, public and private Internet bulletin boards dealing with every sort of bereavement issue, and hundreds of people with whom we correspond, speak with on the phone, or meet in person. These folks also are our friends along the road. We learn a great deal from each one.

Now we hope to create a physical presence somewhere in Colorado, to which we've returned: the first FAR Sanctuary, a place where those in deepest grief may stay or, possibly, come to live, in a safe, friendly environment with edible gardens, animals, beautiful facilities, and lots of space in which to simply grieve. Because grief has no set limits on duration or intensity, such places are a necessity.

Judy and I are not counselors nor do we, or FAR, provide counseling services. We have great respect for grief-counselors, and, after having read excellent college manuals and popular books on the subject, and spoken informally to many counselors and therapists, have found that such work is worthy and filled with caring, genuinely helpful individuals. But Judy and I are not interested in counseling anyone. We provide a different, if related, service.

After years of feeling subtle unspoken pressure from members of our society to "get over it" or "put it behind us and move on," we realized that the death of our beloved only child was not something we cared to "move beyond" or "have closure with" -- such ideas seemed repulsive. I realized that, because I am the sum of my experiences (and much more), that to "let go" of the unimaginable pain of losing Lilli would be, in a way, like pretending that she had never existed. In fact, I came to embrace the pain. It transformed me. I went from being a happy, money-focused person who always believed his ship would come in to a bittersweet person who wants to make a difference. And I'm fine with that. It's my reason for continuing with life. Same with Judy: she decided that if we are going to live in this world of death, gravity, pain, and occasional joy, we might as well get serious about being here.

Death and grief are our society's most taboo subjects, more so than sex was in the Victorian era. While people can joke about death and laugh at grizzly slasher films (a kind of "pornography of death"), most people in places such as the U.S. and the U.K. are unable to seriously face the subjects for more than a few minutes before freaking out and changing the conversation. It's because many in Western culture are in denial of the fact that each of us will die, and that at some point, we will all lose our loved ones. Jokes and slasher films are a way of psychologically "triumphing" over death without having to actually consider it...they are part and parcel of the denial.

Not so much the case in the Latin countries, such as Mexico, Spain, and Italy, where extended periods of mourning are the norm, and there is less pressure from society to "process" the grief and get back to work. Norwegians, too, tend to be much more understanding about aspects of death and grief, as are those in some third-world countries. Some villages in Africa and Asia, for example.

The U.S. and U.K. are quick-fix societies in which funerals and wakes usually happen rather quickly, and, after a week or so, the bereaved tend to go back to their jobs. Usually because they have to: they have bills to pay, family members to take care of. Sometimes, though, it is because they "pour themselves into their work." Which is okay. Many people love their work and find solace in it. However, this is not the case with everyone, and grieving persons shouldn't have to work simply because others tell them it is the best thing they can do for themselves in their "time of grief."

Grief is unique for each individual. It is intensely personal. For those who believe in God, facing the fact of losing someone is a matter between themselves and God. For those without religious or spiritual beliefs, the matter is ultimately something they must come to terms with on their own. Each person goes about it in his or her own way.

Sanctuary. Comfortable places and plenty of time can make an enormous difference in enabling people learn, in their own ways, how to co-exist with grief. Sanctuary can be created almost anywhere: on the job, in the supermarket, in a restaurant, in church, at home, in the hospital, at the scene of a tragedy, online, or in prison: it is simply about creating a safe place in which a person in grief can feel comfortable enough to express -- or not express -- the terrible pain of his or her loss.

Creating such sanctuary on a physical site, and demonstrating the idea that situations of caring support can be created by anyone, at most any time and place, is an important part of what Friends Along the Road is all about. Judy and I, as well as the other FAR Board of Directors -- Shauna, Chris, Sydnei and Giulia -- and the many Friends of FAR, hope to build a model of this ideal on 40 acres, perhaps in the Front Range of Colorado. At this prime FAR Sanctuary there will always be tools for healing, if that is what people hope to achieve, although pressure will never be placed on any individual to "be healed" of his or her grief.

Support and solidarity services provided by the primary FAR Sanctuary (and other FAR sanctuaries that may come into existence) will be designed with the awareness that guests may desire to carefully re-evaluate their lives. Practical means of facilitating helpful frames of reference will always be available so that they may explore ways of living more resourcefully, and with greater well being.

The FAR Sanctuary will not only provide spaces for rest, recuperation, retreat and contemplation, but will offer onsite activities in a stimulating sociable environment.

Guests may, if they choose, participate in community-building enterprises such as discussions, games, arts and crafts, and the various tasks necessary to maintaining a community: gardening, care of animals, cooking, cleaning, maintaining buildings and equipment, and in certain instances, decision-making. They will be given opportunities to learn skills and develop financial strategies to help support them both during their time at the FAR Sanctuaries and in whatever environments they may later choose to live.

While some guests may decide to join the FAR organization, efforts will be made to ensure that those with families and jobs keep these obligations clearly in mind and do not drop out of society altogether or out of their own personal responsibilities.

Applicants seeking the support and solidarity services of FAR sanctuaries will be screened by a committee appointed by the Board of Directors, using criteria that will not discriminate on the basis of age, sex or sexual orientation, race/ethnicity, religion, or income. The criteria for screening will be designed with the help of mental health professionals. Those individuals deemed as possibly suicidal, or otherwise dangerous to themselves or others, will be immediately referred to the appropriate professionals.

FAR sanctuaries and other bereavement facilities will always have established relationships with licensed health-care professionals, including one or more physicians, and a referral list of carefully selected professional counseling services.

Relief Fund. FAR also seeks to establish funds to provide relief for those in deep grief. The monetary relief program will be made at such time as the corporation has attained sufficient grants and donations to begin making disbursements. Thereafter, funds will be distributed to preselected individuals or groups, or on an as-needed basis for those in crisis situations.

Judy and I are excited about this work! We are eager to expand our reach from the Internet to having actual physical sanctuaries, and relief programs. We are also thrilled about being back in Colorado. Our family lives here, our daughter Lilli is buried in Dillon Cemetery, and we are incredibly happy to be close to them again.

It is our hope that FAR can acquire the land ASAP, and that Judy and I can be out there doing the work of providing caring grief-support on a full-time basis, and providing shelter for those in deep grief.

The Roadside Memorial Project Walk. As soon as funds are in place, I am going to make a 2,000-mile walk from the site in Florida where Lilli was killed, to her grave in Dillon Cemetery, Dillon, Colorado. Judy will run FAR and coordinate publicity for my walk from home base here in Alamosa. The purpose of the walk is to gather the stories of people killed along roadsides and represented by the many colorful crosses, markers, and other memorials that fill our nation's roads and highways. Each memorial represents a unique individual with a story -- but the stories are largely unknown, except by families and friends.

Along my route, I will be sending out a press-release and giving media interviews so that families and friends of those memorialized may come forward, if they wish, and tell me about their loved ones. I will also be collecting the stories of the family and friends in order to find out how they have learned to live with their grief. At the end of the walk, I will place a memorial for all these people in Dillon Cemetery, at Lilli's grave.

The stories, as well as my adventures on the road, will be chronicled in a book: Looking for Lilli II: The Big Walk. If you would like, I will gladly carry with me on the walk the names of your deceased loved ones.

You can help make the FAR Sanctuary, the Relief Fund, and the Roadside Memorial Walk possible.

Friends Along the Road, Inc., is funded entirely by grants and donations. If you would like to make a tax-deductible contribution, please contact us. FAR needs help in any way you can provide it: monetary gifts, volunteer time, shelter items.... Got a mobile home or RV sitting around on your lot that you'd like to get rid of? Give it to FAR, and write it off your taxes! The sooner that Judy and I can have any kind of a facilities on the land that will allow us to start providing physical Sanctuary, the better. In time there will be tasteful dwellings, gardens, and retreat spaces on the acreage, but we have to start somehow.

Your company will get a free ad on the FAR Website if you sponsor the Sanctuary, the Relief Fund, or the Roadside Memorial Walk.

Please visit the Friends Along the Road website to read all about FAR, our work, and us.

To read about Lilli, our beloved daughter, go to the Lilli Memorial Website. Though the subject matter is sad, the Lilli Website is actually quite a happy place! There are many memorable photos showing Lilli at her best.

For a very condensed version of my book Looking for Lilli: Living With the Death of Our Only Child, read The Looking for Lilli Tour. Here you'll find the adventures -- and misadventures -- that Judy and I experienced during our two years of traveling around the country's back roads looking for reasons to keep on living.

If you would like to talk with us about loved ones you have lost, or your experiences of grief, contact us toll-free at 877-532-4453. Or email us! We will do our best to listen. FAR will be honored to make a free online memorial of your loved one at the FAR Website. Also, please send us any photos/details of roadside memorials in your family: we are starting an international database for these "descansos" and will put any info you can provide about them on the FAR website.

To find out about sanctuary and caring support of those in deep grief, please call us toll-free at 877-532-4453.

Thank you. And remember: We are all in this together.