Where do we draw the line on questions?
I found that interesting in lieu of the blog posting a few weeks back on what’s inappropriate to ask. Where do we draw the line on what’s too personal and what’s not?
When a loved one dies, it’s shocking, whether we’re prepared or not. Pain runs deep and it really is no time for questions. Some of us might be very willing to share details, for it’s in the telling that we begin to grasp our loss. But for some of us, the details are very personal, and we’re careful with whom we share our most intimate experiences and thoughts.
Sadly, it’s often the truly inappropriate things that people say that stick with us. For me, it was a friend that asked the week after my mother died, “Do you think she knew she was dying?” The question shocked me, but angered me too. Her insensitivity forced me to consider something that was terribly painful.
You might ask yourself some questions before doing the questioning: “What information am I looking for?” and “Why is it important for me to know?” “How might the bereaved feel when I ask this question?” and “Am I helping or hurting?” And, most importantly, “How would I feel if someone asked me this question after I lost my loved one?”
Keep in mind that loss is terribly painful and in the midst of all the pain, the bereaved might not be ready to think about or deal with the answers to your questions. Instead of asking, offer - comfort and support.
Robbie Miller Kaplan is the author of How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss. Now available in three individual volumes: "Illness & Death," "Suicide" and "Miscarriage." Three additional titles are available as e-books: "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn and Newborn Baby" and "Pet Loss." Click here to order.
Labels: what not to say, what to say
1 Comments:
I remember the evening in my 39th year, when my neighbor and I set out for our usual walk and I told her, with great distress, that I had just found out my father was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I will never forget what she said, in a voice filled with curiosity: "how much longer do they give him to live?" I also will never forget how it made me feel. Like I had been punched in the stomach. This neighbor should have known better--she was 21 years older than me. I know of no other reason, other than morbid curiosity, why she would ask me that. I remember answering her with "I don't know." Although I did know--six months. I just didn't want to satisfy her curiosity and enable her to tell others, as though she was sharing a juicy morsel. To this day (and that happened in 1991) I have never felt the same toward her. Needless to say, I never walked with her again. That was the only way I knew to prevent other insensitive questions. It sure taught me a lesson, though--to choose my words carefully when I offer sympathy to someone who is hurting. And just writing this down brings back the memory and causes me to realize I have held that resentment all these years. It still makes me feel like crying. Judy
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