When you need help

In a perfect world, someone would assess the needs of individuals or families dealing with loss and put a plan in place where they would receive the support they need. Some religious institutions do this and some friends are organized enough to create a network to fulfill those needs. But what happens when the religious institution fails to support, family lives far away, and friends can’t coordinate a unified effort?

When someone faces a difficult loss, whose responsibility is it to communicate their needs? This question came up recently when a reader shared their complicated medical trauma that had them back and forth to another part of the country for treatment. Like many others, they chose to communicate with family and friends via a caring website where they posted journal entries. They requested no calls so without phone communication and direction, it was hard to figure out how to best help; most friends and family members resorted to cards and e-mail. They did notify their religious institution but no concrete help was offered. And while cards and e-mails are helpful, this family had some real needs that were not addressed.

So it got me thinking how you might handle this if you needed support and it wasn’t forthcoming. What if you let your religious institution know your circumstances and they offer no support. Do you call them and communicate some specific needs? And what about your friends? Do you call one trusted friend and give them a list of other friends and ask them to coordinate support?

I’ve heard amazing stories how neighbors and acquaintances pull together to help those in need. How community members solicit help from other members who don’t even know the family. How new bonds are created and networks formed when individuals seeking support are willing to communicate their needs and ask for help.

I know how difficult it is to ask for help when you are feeling so vulnerable. But when others truly don’t know what to do, it may be the time to step up and be specific about your needs. And if someone says they can’t help you, don’t be deterred. There are a lot of caring souls out there that may just need some direction. And we all know that it’s the supportive and caring gestures that bring comfort and facilitate the healing process.

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.

Cooking up some comfort

We had a lot of snow last week, three feet deep. With no place to go, it seemed an opportune time to try my hand at something I’d wanted to do for the last nine years; attempt to make my mom’s stuffed cabbage recipe.

My mom called herself a short order cook and one of her favorite ways to comfort was something homemade from her kitchen. I was a lucky recipient and every time we visited, she prepared three of my favorite recipes. Why would I bother to cook them myself when she was so willing? Much to my regret, I neither learned her techniques nor recorded exact ingredients or oven temperatures. So trying to duplicate them became a challenge.

In the months following my mom’s death, I decided to bake her date and nut bread. My kitchen island resembled a test kitchen as I measured, weighed, and recorded numerous attempts. After weeks, I finally mastered it. But the stuffed cabbage recipe was missing the oven temperature, cooking times, and exact ingredients and I just didn’t want to tarnish such a delicious memory. And so I put it off.

Last week, I had plenty of time. I searched online to find a recipe with similar ingredients but clearer instructions and amazingly, I found one. I put both of the recipes together and cleared the kitchen island. To my advantage, I actually have the roaster my mom used for the recipe; so confident was she that I would take the mantle that she mailed it to me just three months before her death.

The toughest job was the cabbage; no matter how much hot water, the leaves were hard to separate, and I struggled. I remembered her thinning out the membrane and despite my best efforts, the leaves were still hard to roll. I worked through the entire morning and when the cabbage rolls were finally nestled in the roaster, they looked just like I remembered. And when they started to bake, the house filled with a wonderful aroma. And much to my surprise, with thanks to the online recipe, it looked and tasted just like my mom’s.

In the years since my mom’s death, I have seen so many of her qualities in myself. And it always gives me such warmth to know that she lives on in me. And now I can add stuffed cabbage to my list of accomplishments. Will I make them again? Maybe; when I find myself snowed in with a few feet of snow!

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.

Being supportive from afar

Is distance preventing you from supporting a friend or loved one dealing with illness or death? Do you wonder, “How can I be supportive when I live far away?” Or, have you concluded it is too difficult to support someone from a distance and think, “I wish I lived closer so I can be supportive.”

There’s much you can do to show support from afar, and you can still make a difference in helping loved ones deal with loss. What you choose to do depends on your willingness to be involved and the needs or desires of your loved one.

Here are some ideas of what’s worked for others:

1. Take your cues on telephone calls as they may disturb both privacy and routines. Ask, “Is it okay if I call on Sunday? What would be a good time?” And then make sure you do call so they’re not waiting and disappointed.

2. If it’s okay to call, you might choose a day of the week and a specific time, checking in weekly to let them know they are in your thoughts.

3. If they prefer you not call, use email as a way to communicate. It’s not intrusive and it allows the recipient to read and respond at their leisure. And it also lets them know they are not forgotten.

4. Ask if there’s something specific you can do to help; you can conduct online research or ask for a contact list so you can call others with updates.

5. Mail a package of goodies every other week or once a month. You can get a small, flat rate box from the postal service and fill it with homemade cookies or other treats.

6. Ask if there is a favorite take-out food outlet. If so, buy a gift card for a dinner and its one less night they have to worry about a meal.

The effort you make will mean so much to someone feeling so alone. And you’ll feel good in the process.

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.

In memory of mom

When friends and family faced tough times, my mom knew just what to do. She was a master at doling out comfort and her willingness to listen bonded many friendships. But it was her prowess as a baker that forged relationships. Whether someone was just home from the hospital or grieving a loss, my mom paid a visit, always with something baked from her kitchen.

So it’s no surprise that in the weeks following my mom’s death, I spent countless hours in the kitchen, trying to comfort myself in the same way my mom comforted everyone else. I wanted to master her date and nut bread recipe, the same bread she packed in my lunch when I was little and continued to bake for me every time we visited, whether my home or hers. The smell of date and nut bread baking warmed my heart and as much as I loved it, I had never made it myself.

And so I used the kitchen as an outlet for my grief, trying to decipher my mom’s cryptic recipe. I distracted myself with important questions: “How many tablespoons are there in an inch and a half of margarine?” And: “How many ounces of dates in a small box of dates? I kept baking breads until I finally filled my house with the same wonderful smells that conjured memories of mom.

Baking my mom’s date and nut bread was a way for me to hold her close. I still love to bake and when I want to nurture or console myself or others, I just head to the kitchen. Nowadays, it’s my hands that do the comforting.

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.

What’s appropriate to share?

When my cousin died many years ago, a poem she wrote about her herself, her husband and children was read at her funeral. My aunt had the poem written in calligraphy and gave me a copy for my birthday. Decades passed and my cousin’s children married and had children of their own. One day, I realized I no longer lingered to read the poem and wondered if my cousin’s daughter would better appreciate it. But I wasn’t sure if it would open old wounds so I wrote her a letter and asked if she’d like it. She did; she’s had it framed and she’s told me how happy she is that I passed it on to her.

I wasn’t so successful in trying to share something passed to me that really belonged to a distant cousin. I’ve learned that some people do not want tangible reminders of loss and, not everyone is left with loving and warm feelings when someone dies.

So what do you do with old photos, letters, scrapbooks, or memorabilia? If you want to pass them along to the bereaved, give some thought before taking action. I’ve found that many people are grateful for photographs that favorably portray their loved one. They might appreciate a letter that provides some inkling into feelings or experiences, again, on a positive note. These are the items that might bring the bereaved comfort during those early weeks and months.

Allow some time before offering scrapbooks, clothing, artwork, jewelry, or other household items. Consider communicating with them first, discussing an item that you think might be meaningful, describing it or sending a photo. Only offer if you are willing to pack it and pay for the shipping. And don’t take offense if they decide they don’t want your item; they might be overwhelmed with all the possessions they already have and might not want or need other items to sort through.

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.