Today was supposed to be Christine Feehan Day on RWTTD. But Christine's mom died yesterday and she has far more important things to do right now. We wish her and her wonderful family all the best and send our prayers and support their way. She'll join us another time.
I confess, I sat staring at the message she wrote, feeling another echo of the grief of losing my own mom, and wishing I had some magic words to help her cope. I know there aren't any quick, sure-fire remedies for loss and grieving; personal experience has taught me it's a journey that you have to make for yourself. But I also know from experience that the only thing that makes it possible to survive that difficult "hero's journey" is the compassion and support of the people around you.
I've been thinking about this for some time, allowing memories to finally come out of the closet to be examined, and talking to others about their experiences. I'm awed and amazed by what people can and do survive and by the acts of love and compassion that make that survival possible. Lately I've begun to do more than just wonder at it. . . I've spent time searching and listening. . . actively discovering.
What people need in times of loss and difficulty is surprisingly simple: hope. Hope that it won't always be this way, hope that healing will occur, hope that things will get better, hope that they'll come through stronger, hope that they won't feel so alone, hope that love will carry them through. And that's what we as loving, compassionate humans can bring to each other.
Helping someone find hope involves companionship, a listening ear, and a perspective on what's happening. Being there for someone and giving of your time and yourself to help them journey through loss is one of the most important things we can do in this life. And yet, we often shy away from it. . . afraid to get involved, afraid others will think we're intruding, afraid we'll say or do the wrong thing. . . afraid we won't be able to make a difference. It's all about our fear, not our friend's pain.
Letting go of that fear is a healing in itself. Because we don't have to be credentialed or trained or brilliant or especially spiritual to make a difference when someone we love is hurting. All we have to be is willing. Willing to listen, willing to speak a few words of reason and hope when things seem bleak, willing to open our eyes and our hearts enough to feel another person's pain and respond in love.
All of us have had the experience of seeing someone we love in pain and feeling overwhelmed and useless to help. We want nothing more than to be able to heal that illness or grief, to make the pain and despair disappear and the situation resolve. But it's not up to us to heal anything; that's not our role. Our bodies and even our souls have mechanisms already in place for healing, and given a chance, they will kick in and operate as designed. The body tends toward healing. Our role is to be there and provide support, comfort, and companionship while the healing takes place. Maybe that's the reason "therapy dogs" are so effective. . . they're content just to love and be loved. . . no other agenda, no promises, no requirements. Just free, unconditional love.
So if someone you love is hurting-- whatever the cause-- listen. Ask them what they need, and if they don't know or can't articulate it, suggest things you see as immediate needs. Touch base frequently to let them know you're there, and spend time with them as you can. Help them by providing words of hope and perspective. . . the one things that is constant is change. . . things do and will get better. And whenever possible, let them talk.
As Shakespeare said: "Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break."
What about you? Care to share something loving and compassionate that someone said to you? Did for you? Care to share your perspective on grief or loss or compassion? Read any books that gave you help in comforting others?
My most recent find is: Field Notes on The Compassionate Life: A Search for the Soul of Kindness, by Marc Ian Barasch. A fascinating and inspiring look at the research on empathy and compassion.
