Going to funerals

This past summer and fall, I've found myself at more funerals or visitations than I'd prefer. In truth, I'd prefer to not have any of these to go to. Sometimes it seems like these sorts of things go in cycles - I feel like I'd been death-free for a year or two before this.


For all the death I've experienced in my life, I am woefully inept when dealing with someone who has just lost a loved one. I never know what to say. Maybe my own experience has taught me that almost anything I utter will sound hollow to someone in the early stages of grief. Gratefully, experience has also taught me that, for the most part, what I say isn't all that important. The grieving person has bigger things on their mind than analyzing my words. After the fog of grief has lifted a little and they look back, they'll probably not remember what I said, just that I was there.


That's not to say that I don't remember anything that was said to me in those situations. I remember a few things. I wish I remembered more things that were helpful - that would give me some material to use. Instead, I tend to recall the lines that I heard multiple times - repetition has fixed them in my memory. You would think that if numerous people are saying something, it must have some merit. Yeah, not so much. I kind of think there are lot of people who, like me, are struggling to find the right words and in the end opt for a line they've heard going around the room.


When we lost our son, we heard a lot of comments about God having a new little angel. We received poems about angels and even some little angel figurines. At that moment in my life, I wasn't real happy with God and I frankly didn't get any comfort from the statement. I also heard about God's great tapestry and how some threads are shorter than others. I'm sure someone spent a lot of effort coming up with this metaphor and I'll admit it's kind of cool in a cerebral, logical way but it avoids addressing why my son had to be one of the short threads. It just doesn't help. But then, there aren't really any words that anyone can say that will make everything better so perhaps all attempts are equal as long as they don't offend or cause more pain. In my case, there were some people who tapped into what I needed to hear. Their statements were less along the "he's in a better place" line and more in the "this sucks, it's so unfair" vein. The former comes off as trying to tell you why you should feel okay while the latter assures you that it's okay to feel the way you do. In the early stages of grief I needed to feel the way I felt and I appreciated those who understood that. 


I'm hoping my death cycle has passed and I am funeral-free for awhile.