Sunday, February 19, 2012

How You Can Help Me

This is for those of you who have friends and family that want to help but dont know how to. print this out and give it to them.

HOW YOU CAN HELP ME 

Please talk about my loved one, even though he is gone. It is more 
comforting to cry than to pretend that he never existed. I need to talk 
about him, and I need to do it over and over.

Be patient with my agitation. Nothing feels secure in my world. Get 
comfortable with my crying. Sadness hits me in waves, and I never know 
when my tears may flow. Just sit with me in silence and hold my hand.

Don't abandon me with the excuse that you don't want to upset me. You 
can't catch my grief. My world is painful, and when you are too afraid 
to call me or visit or say anything, you isolate me at a time when I 
most need to be cared about. If you don't know what to say, just come 
over, give me a hug or touch my arm, and gently say, "I'm sorry." You 
can even say, "I just don't know what to say, but I care, and want you 
to know that."

Just because I look good does not mean that I feel good. Ask me how I 
feel only if you really have time to find out.

I am not strong. I'm just numb. When you tell me I am strong, I feel 
that you don't see me.

I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I'm not sick. I'm 
grieving and that's different. My grieving may only begin 6 months after 
my loved one's death. Don't think that I will be over it in a year. For 
I am not only grieving his death, but also the person I was when I was 
with him, the life that we shared, the plans we had for watching our 
children and grandchildren grow, the places we will never get to go together, and the 
hopes and dreams that will never come true. My whole world has crumbled 
and I will never be the same.

I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget my 
loved one and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life and 
love into the rest of my life. He is a part of me and always will be, 
and sometimes I will remember him with joy and other times with a tear. 
Both are okay.

I don't have to accept the death. Yes, I have to understand that it has 
happened and it is real, but there are some things in life that are just 
not acceptable.

When you tell me what I should be doing, then I feel even more lost and 
alone. I feel badly enough that my loved one is dead, so please don't 
make it worse by telling me I'm not doing this right.

Please don't tell me I can find someone else or that I need to start 
dating again. I'm not ready. And maybe I don't want to. And besides, 
what makes you think people are replaceable? They aren't. Whoever comes 
after will always be someone different.

I don't even understand what you mean when you say, "You've got to get 
on with your life." My life is going on, I've been forced to take on 
many new responsibilities and roles. It may not look the way you think 
it should. This will take time and I will never be my old self again. So 
please, just love me as I am today, and know that with your love and 
support, the joy will slowly return to my life. But I will never forget 
and there will always be times that I cry.

I need to know that you care about me. I need to feel your touch, your 
hugs. I need you just to be with me, and I need to be with you. I need 
to know you believe in me and in my ability to get through my grief in 
my own way, and in my own time.

Please don't say, "Call me if you need anything." I'll never call you 
because I have no idea what I need. Trying to figure out what you could 
do for me takes more energy than I have. So, in advance, let me give you 
some ideas:

(a) Bring food or a movie over to watch together.
(b) Send me a card on special holidays, his birthday, and the 
anniversary of his death, and be sure to mention his name. You can't 
make me cry. The tears are here and I will love you for giving me the 
opportunity to shed them because someone cared enough about me to reach 
out on this difficult day.
(c) Ask me more than once to join you at a movie or lunch or dinner. I 
may so no at first or even for a while, but please don't give up on me 
because somewhere down the line, I may be ready, and if you've given up 
then I really will be alone.
(d) Understand how difficult it is for me to be surrounded by couples, 
to walk into events alone, to go home alone, to feel out of place in the same situations

where I used to feel so comfortable.

Please don't judge me now - or think that I'm behaving strangely. 
Remember I'm grieving. I may even be in shock. I am afraid. I may feel 
deep rage. I may even feel guilty. But above all, I hurt. I'm 
experiencing a pain unlike any I've ever felt before and one that can't 
be imagined by anyone who has not walked in my shoes.

Don't worry if you think I'm getting better and then suddenly I seem to 
slip backward. Grief makes me behave this way at times. And please don't 
tell me you know how I feel, or that it's time for me to get on with my 
life. What I need now is time to grieve.

Most of all thank you for being my friend. Thank you for your patience. 
Thank you for caring. Thank you for helping, for understanding. Thank 
you for praying for me.

And remember in the days or years ahead, after your loss - when you need 
me as I have needed you - I will understand. And then I will come and be 
with you

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