“Grief does not change you… It reveals you.”
— John Green
I know it’s the wrong time of year to be talking about grief. We’re supposed to be happy, anticipating family, friends, gifts, and good cheer. However, we all know that losing someone dear to us can come at any time. Grief knows no season and takes no holiday.
Recently, a couple of my friends have lost family members dear to them. It’s heartbreaking to lose someone, but it’s especially sad around the holidays when it seems as if everyone is gathering with family and living such blessed lives. It’s hard to cope with grief in a season that’s supposed to be filled with joy.
It got me thinking about the traditions and protocols around grief. How we care for our friends matters, and I’m learning that what I grew up with might not be what people really need.
When I was in college, my grandmother passed away. I had to leave school for a week, and while I appreciated how family, friends, and relatives came together for it, some of it was a little confusing. Like the set of priest’s vestments someone sent. Ok, we were a Catholic family, and apparently, sending priest’s robes is an older tradition, but I was honestly confused about how that would help the family members left behind.
When someone loses a loved one, they need support. They likely do not need flowers, vestments, or a fruit basket. Sure, fruit can be a welcome snack, but most baskets are a couple of dodgy pears, a tin of almonds, and some cheese. That’s only comfort food if you are a mouse.
Maybe one family needs a meal, but not everyone is into casseroles, so how about a grief pizza? Why send over some crock full of mac and cheese or chicken and rice when maybe the most welcome food would be something easy that doesn’t need a plate and doesn’t involve returning a dish? Grief pizza, it’s a thing… or at least it could be.
While flowers are lovely, they don’t help when it’s midnight and someone who has lost a loved one can’t sleep. That’s when a cheesecake or a tray of brownies might be just the comfort food they need, because no one is heating up chicken, ziti, and broccoli in the middle of the night.
Grief is personal — everyone reacts differently when they suffer a loss. Traditions are one thing, but do we ever stop and think about what someone truly needs versus the same traditions we always do? Just because it’s traditional doesn’t mean it’s mandatory. Consider the person you are trying to comfort — do they really want a potted ficus tree, or would they rather have some pie? Isn’t pie always better than a plant they have to water and maintain?
I remember when I lost my parents within four months of each other. My friends meant well and sent flowers, but I needed someone to bring me a sub sandwich while I was packing up the house or show up at the end of a long day and crack open a cold beer in the backyard.
Maybe we send flowers or a card because it’s easier? Grieving is messy, sad, and difficult, so we order some roses and call it done. There has to be a better way to be there for someone.
I was having coffee with a friend who recently lost a family member, and the doorbell rang. Expecting yet another basket of flowers, she was delighted when the delivery person handed her a tray of gourmet cookies and a bottle of wine with a note that said, “Drink up, chow down, and call if you need me.” What a brilliant idea.
Rather than doing the expected thing when someone has a loss, why don’t we ask, “How can I help?” This simple question can make all the difference.
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years, and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.