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Some Things I've Learned
By Charlie Walton, Lilburn, GA
Atlanta, TCF
I'd like to spend a little time with you this morning talking
about a few things I have learned during the past seventeen years since
two of our three sons died. These are personal observations based on first,
being a bereaved parent, and then drawing on a lot of conversations...
and emails... and letters that have come as a result of my books.
Let me emphasize that this list of "things I have learned"...
did not "drop from heaven." So, some of what I say may be the
absolute opposite of what you have experienced. But like your mama told
you... "If you don't like it, just leave it on the plate."
1. YOU'RE STUCK WITH THIS PAIN
The first thing I want to tell you is that... you are stuck with this
pain. You are going to hurt real bad for a long time. And even though
everybody around you is going to be wishing your pain away you're gonna
keep on hurting for a long time.
There will come a day when you will have longer periods between the pains
but, at least in my experience, when the memories do come flooding back,
even after seventeen years, they are going to hurt just as much as the
first day you got the news.
But the surprising thing is, that's the way it ought to be. Just think
about it. If I told you that I have the power to wave a magic wand and
instantly remove the pain you are feeling and if you really thought about
it for a bit, I think you would say, "Well thanks, Charlie, but I
guess maybe I better go ahead and hurt a little while longer."
Even though your first thought might be "I cannot stand this pain
any longer!" your second and third thoughts would reveal to you that
the unprecedented, unequalled pain that you are enduring is actually your
tribute to what you have lost.
What would it say if you had a most precious person torn from your life,
and you continued along in your life as if nothing had happened? Pain
is lousy, and it hurts, but the depth of your pain testifies to the depth
of your love and the significance of your loss.
You know nothing gives me more pleasure in life than to hear that something
I have written has helped somebody. I've tried to analyze why my book
has helped. And beyond the basic fact that I have personally sat where
my reader is sitting, there is also the fact that the book does not promise
that everything is going to be all right. I didn't want anybody to tell
me "What has happened to you is terrible, but it's gonna be alright!"
I know now that that was true but I didn't want to hear it then.
So, I tried to write a book that said, "What has happened to you
is terrible" and stop at that, leaving the words about healing until
much later when they might be more useful.
So "thing one" that I have learned. Enjoy the pain. Appreciate
it. Savor it. It hurts but it is the appropriate response to overwhelming
loss. Your tears are your tribute to one who has been taken from you.
2. PEOPLE SAY A LOT OF DUMB STUFF
Two: Some of the things I have learned have turned up as chapter headings
in some of my books. Maybe the one chapter heading that has spoken to
more readers is the one that says. "People Are Going to Say a Lot
of Dumb Stuff."
Somehow, we expect people to have thought about the words that come out
of their mouths as they gather around and try to help. Actually, very
few of us ever really examine the words we say. We just sort of just open
mouth and spit out some cliché that we once heard and assume that
it will work.
We also start from the mistaken assumption that our job when we speak
to a grieving person is to fix things to solve their problem. to say some
magic set of words that will help them "snap out of it." It
works on television - why won't it work in the funeral home?
If you want to see a real "spitting contest", just start any
group of Compassionate Friends to sharing some of the idiotic things people
might have said to them to try and make them feel better. The stupidity
ranges all the way from "God must have needed another angel in heaven."
to "You're still young - so you can have other children." to
the absolutely abominable "I know exactly how you feel because my
pet died."
Probably the only thing that will keep you from punching out a long-time
friend who says one of those dumb things is to make yourself hear what
they mean instead of what they say. People just say dumb stuff. but they
mean well. you gotta cut them some slack even though you're the one who
is in need.
For what it's worth, you are probably now permanently cured from saying
dumb stuff when you go to try and comfort a bereaved friend. For starters,
if they know what you've been through, they are going to get all kinds
of helpful, unspoken messages the minute you walk in the door.
You also now know... that hugs say things better than words. I find that
looks and hugs are far more eloquent than any words I might put together.
You have before you, if you choose to accept it, a tremendous opportunity
to be a lifetime servant of grieving people. You now hold the hard-won
credentials of a person who can truly help... because you know all the
dumb stuff not to say.
A little while back, I got word that the grown daughter of one of my closest
friends had been raped. She was a single parent. A guy with a crowbar
pried open the back door in the middle of the night, came in and raped
her... with her children in the next room. When I got the news, I went
straight to my car... straight to my friend's house, knocked on the front
door. My friend and his wife opened the door and I said, "I'm here
to hurt with you."
We hugged and cried together in their front hall. There were no words
to say. I knew better than to come with encouragement. I wasn't there
to try and cheer them up or distract them from the pain. I was there to
hurt with them.
3. TELLING YOUR STORY
A third thing I have learned over the years is that grieving people need
to tell their stories more times than their friends or family members
are going to be willing to hear those stories. That is perhaps the greatest
value of The Compassionate Friends, a group of people who are, not only
willing to hear your story again and again, but will sincerely cry with
you the twentieth time you tell that story just as they cried the first
time you told it.
These are people who understand, people who listen intently, people who
will even help you tell your story. I don't know if you have noticed it
but if you are sitting in a circle telling what happened to you, those
who have heard the story lots of times will actually jump in and add a
detail you might be leaving out. If there is a first-timer in the circle,
the veterans may add explanations and clarifications for them.
It has become their story too. They have suffered your loss. They repeatedly
provide the exact response you expected from the whole world. Do you remember
your outrage at the world for continuing as though nothing had happened?
Do you remember the urge to scream "How can you go on like this?
Don't you realize that my world has ended?"
So, I praise The Compassionate Friends, a group that meets a vital and
normal need, the need for someone to listen with sincere interest as we
tell and re-tell our stories again and again.
On the other hand, knowing that we need to tell our stories so many times
should help us be a little more understanding toward friends and relatives
who are reluctant to hear our stories again and again. They don't know
that each re-telling is helping to heal. They don't know that each re-telling
is therapy. All they know is that you keep repeating things that make
them hurt and they worry that you might be stuck in that story forever.
People who have not been where you have been have no concept of how long
grief takes. They think it should end in some "respectably short
time" after the funeral.
Kay and I still have some understanding, supportive friends who will come
to us as December 15th approaches and say. "I remember that it was
about this time of year that Tim and Don died and I want you to know that
I am praying for your comfort and I want you to know that those two guys
are very much remembered and missed." These are wonderful friends
who have learned... sometimes with a little training from us... that "Grief
takes longer than one year."
4. WRITING SOMETIMES HELPS
Number four... writing sometimes helps. I have been amazed through the
years that people who way back in elementary school were traumatized by
some English teacher with a merciless red grading pencil, traumatized
into thinking that they could never write anything, will suddenly produce
beautiful poems and other written sentiments in the process of remembering
their children.
There is something therapeutic about putting things on paper, reading
them over, changing a word here, adjusting an emphasis there, that really
helps to focus the mind and get some of those inner feelings out where
we can deal with them more effectively.
It works by the same principle as making a list when you've got more to
do than you can hold in your mind. You know when you think you have a
hundred things to do and then you put that list down on paper and suddenly
realized that you really only had seven things to do. It's just that they
were swirling around in your head so fast that seven things looked like
a hundred things.
So, consider writing down your feelings if you haven't already. Don't
worry about phrasing things for others to read. You don't need to start
out shooting for publication. Just put some words on paper that work for
you, words that feel good when you read them over to yourself. Later,
if your words help others when they are shared that's good too. But, for
starters just dump some of what's in your mind onto paper. Read it over,
work it over, bathe it in tears, until it feels good.
Writing doesn't necessarily work for everybody but maybe pulling things
out of your weary mind and onto a defenseless piece of paper can work
for you.
5. EXERCISE
Number five is something that gets really mixed reactions when I say it
to people. When you are grieving, I think there is no such thing as "too
much physical exercise." I am not a doctor and I am not advocating
that folks with weak hearts become rock climbers but my experience and
my observation has been that... when it comes to clearing your mind...
there is nothing quite so therapeutic as soaking your clothes with your
own sweat.
I am not saying that exercise takes away the pain of grief. I am saying
that after you rake leaves until you drop or drag your weary body around
the block or pump that stationary bicycle that's gathering dust in the
garage and after you have a quick shower and towel dry and then sit down
to rest that's when your mind can get a clear fix on which parts of the
hurting were emotional... and which were just from sitting too many hours,
popping too many pain pills, drinking too many relaxers or eating too
many servings of tuna casserole just because somebody stuck another plate
in front of you.
It is unfortunate that our modern conveniences have stolen away from us
the physical exertions that used to be part of death. I was in a small
town in Honduras when a beloved woman of the village died of cancer. It
gave me a chance to see how things used to occur in our country a hundred
years ago. Some of that lady's relatives had to swing a pick and shovel
to dig a grave. Others had to borrow a truck to go buy a casket from the
local wood craftsman. Lots of activities had to be done in a hurry since
embalming was not an option there. The funeral service was late that night.
Many people stayed all night at the house. The burial was the next morning.
There was physical work to be accomplished, work that helped people get
physically tired, to feel like they were helping to pay tribute to the
life that had ended. I think we lost a lot when the backhoes and funeral
directors started doing everything for us.
Another thing that strenuous exercise will do is get you so physically
tired that your body will finally take you to sleep, even while your mind
is still feeling that you ought to observe an all night vigil. Sleep is
as important as exercise. Neither one is easy during grief but you can
make your reluctant body exercise and that can make your reluctant mind
sleep.
Sometimes it's important to trick yourself to get started. Some days when
I really don't feel like going to the gym, I tell myself. "Okay,
look. I'll just go in and do a few really easy things, just a little physical
activity, maybe walk around the track a couple of times." But once
I am there and doing a few easy things the blood starts to circulate and
the joints start to warm up and before long I am having a good workout.
I know you feel lousy. I know you can't get a full breath and your heart
hurts but trick yourself into exercising and see if it doesn't help.
One thing I would add to that. I have found that exercises I do alone
work better during times of grief. I don't want the complications of dealing
with other people during grief. So, I would recommend leaving off tennis.
and golf and any other activity where you have a weapon in your hand when
there is pain in your heart.
You don't need a social experience. You just need to move the large muscles
of your body until you sweat... until you sweat a lot and get so physically
tired that it becomes very clear where your body ends and your grief begins.
6. YOU NEED TO LET PEOPLE HELP YOU
And speaking of tuna casseroles, that brings me to something else I have
learned. You need to let people help you. Somewhere inside the human brain,
there must be a little sign hanging on the wall that says "A tuna
casserole will make things better." People want to do something to
help... and bringing food is the first thing that pops into their heads.
And, unless you want a lifetime supply of tuna casseroles, you'd better
give them permission to do things, tangible things, things that will make
them feel like they are helping.
I have heard a lot of people talk about how their friends came around
immediately after the tragedy but never came back. What they usually forget
is that those people said. "If there is anything we can do to help,
anything, please let us know." Now, some of them don't really mean
it - but a lot of them do.
Maybe a day comes when you are thinking "There is no way I can face
the decisions at the grocery store today." pick up the phone and
tell one of your friends. "Remember what you said about helping?
Well, would that include something as weird as stopping by the grocery
store to pick up a few things for a basket-case who is not yet emotionally
ready to see her child's favorite food on the shelf?"
Let people do things. They don't know how to provide grief counseling...
but they know how to mow grass. A friend of ours tells a wonderful story
about going to console a grieving parent and saying as she was leaving,
"Is there anything I can do to help?" And that parent said,
"You won't believe this but, on top of everything else, our washing
machine just quit working. Is there any way you would be willing to wash
a load of clothes for us?" Our friend says that it was the most enjoyable
load of clothes she had ever washed. She washed. She dried. She folded
each piece lovingly. She felt so good at being able to do something tangible
that felt like it was helping. So, let people help you.
7. "PERSONALITY INTENSIFICATION"
I learned a new term recently that helped give a name to something I had
observed that happens when sudden grief occurs. A gerontologist at our
church was conducting a class on the problems of aging, and specifically,
how to deal with aging parents. One of the things he said is that, as
people get older, a phenomenon occurs which is called "personality
intensification."
As the good doctor struggled to explain the meaning of "personality
intensification," someone in the class spoke up and said, "Oh,
you mean that, as you get older, you just get more like you have always
been." The doctor had to agree that that was a pretty good definition.
You've probably seen this in older people. If they were grumpy as young
people, they are going to be even more cantankerous as they get older.
If they were sweet and loving and forgiving all their lives, they are
probably going to be folks who grow old gracefully. It's just that aging
removes some of the motivation to hide our natural characteristics and
"personality intensification" is the result.
Well, I think the same thing happens when grief enters your life. The
motivation to monitor and adjust the way you behave just kind of melts
away and your personality characteristics intensify. For some people,
that can be a blessing - they may have needed to open up and be less careful
about life. For others, it can be really disastrous.
Sometimes you hear folks say that the death of a child is likely to cause
the death of the marriage of that child's parents. That's just not true.
What happens is personality intensification. If there were cracks in that
marriage relationship, the stress on those cracks will be intensified
by the child's death. On the other hand, if that marriage relationship
was a strong one, it will grow even stronger.
It is important for us just to know about "personality intensification",
to know that it occurs naturally, and to recognize it when the added stress
of grief is making it happen to us. It's not by accident that the customary
wisdom of the ages is "Don't make any major life decisions for a
whole year after the loss of a loved one." You are not yourself and
you shouldn't expect yourself to be yourself. You just gotta tell the
world to wait.
8. THE FINAL GIFT
Finally, I want to tell you something that I have begun to realize as
the years have passed since the night that Tim and Don. and Don's best
friend, Bryan, died. I have realized that by their deaths, and the deep
permanent scar it left in my life, they gave me a gift of immeasurable
value.
The final gift bestowed by any loved one who is torn from your grasp is
a clear and unforgettable awareness of what is permanent... and what is
temporary.
My second book, which is called Packing for the Big Trip, was written
because conversations I had with people about the first book made it so
crystal clear that the reason we are all so completely blind-sided by
death is that we live in a "death-denying society", a society
where the death rate is 100 percent but where no one wants to mention
it.
I wrote in Packing for the Big Trip. "Every person who dies gives
a priceless gift to those who stay behind. That gift is awareness of death
and its manifold implications for our lives. Death awareness is about
living. It brings the maturity we need to live our lives with wisdom and
joy ... to stop cringing at the thought of eventual death... and start
living with the daily enthusiasm of those who are packing for the big
trip."
Maybe you are still so close to your child's death that you are not ready
to see that there could ever be anything good to come from it. That's
fine. Maybe you are still wishing you could wring that kid's neck for
leaving you here with all this pain. That's fine too. But maybe, you are
beginning to realize that you have new eyes for the upside down values
of our culture, that your "death awareness" has given you greater
"life wisdom", that your child's death has given you a gift
of life.
Books by Charlie Walton...
WHEN THERE ARE NO WORDS - " It is available from some bookstores, on-line from www.amazon.com, or from Atlanta’s G.A.C.S. Bookstore - 770-243-2370 or 800-241-7888.
PACKING FOR THE BIG TRIP –
TWELVE FACES OF GRIEF Now out of print (except in Portuguese) but photocopies are available free from the author for a $5 copying, postage, and handling fee. Inquiries to cwalton@worldnet.att.net.
OH GOD! OH GOD! –Request your free copy from www.heraldoftruth.org.
TWELVE REFLECTIONS ON THE FIRST 12 WEEKS OF GRIEF. An Abbey Press CareNote for those trying to survive the death of a loved one. Available from Abbey Press, One Caring Place, St. Meinrad, IN 47577, 800-621-1588.
LIVING WITH LOSS WHILE OTHERS ARE CELEBRATING. An Abbey Press CareNote for those trying to cope with the holidays. Available from Abbey Press, One Caring Place, St. Meinrad, IN 47577, 800-621-1588.
LAYING IT ON THE LINE WITH GOD – Available from
Christian bookstores, from Atlanta’s G.A.C.S. Bookstore - 770-243-2370
or 800-241-7888, or directly from HillCrest Publishing, an imprint of
Abilene Christian University Press www.acu.edu/acupress.
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