Take the risk: Ask!

Grieving people want—and need—to talk

I played golf recently with a friend I hadn’t seen since my son Corey died in February.

I sensed he wanted to provide me with some guy time, have some fun, maybe lighten my load, so he invited me out.

He brought along two fellows I had not met. Around the first tee and on the opening holes, we did the usual guy surveillance—testing what gets a laugh, determining the cursing parameters, figuring out the topic possibilities and boundaries.

For the first few holes, I wondered when and if my friend would mention Corey. I can’t help it.

After hitting our drives on the third hole, he scurried over to me. He looked me in the eye, foreshadowing he was about to embark on something serious. Possibly risky.

“So, how are you and Sandy doing?”

“We’re doing OK,” I replied automatically. It’s trite and nondescript, but it covers the gamut.

I thanked him. His eyes went wide, his mouth curved and he exhaled like a whale, exclaiming, “Oh wow. I was worried about upsetting you.”

I didn’t think the other two fellows knew about my Corey, so I told them. Of course, they were shocked and offered their commiserations.

What a downer, right?

No. The exact opposite. My friend’s brave inquiry set the tone for a wonderful afternoon—lots of laughing, storytelling and golf chat. The conversation went far deeper than what usually passes for guy talk on the golf course.

I told stories about Corey as a golfer that made me cry and laugh; it was exactly what I wanted and needed to do.

When we meet people close to us for the first time since Corey died and they don’t mention Corey or check in with us, it’s awkward. No one is talking about his death, but we’re sure as hell all thinking about it. There are also circumstances where it would be quite natural for someone to ask: “Hey, how’s it going?”

When nothing is said, I begin to fixate on it, feeling a swirl of incomprehension, impatience and often anger. I just want to escape.

After one such encounter with a couple we’ve known for years, I was immensely frustrated. I told them the next day.

“We didn’t want to upset you,” was the reply.

Yup, I get it. And I know—it’s a completely normal for people to think this.

The idea that you could make someone cry, make them angry with you, or ruin their day dissuades many people from saying something. They worry they’ll make a mistake that could make someone more upset.

So they don’t risk saying anything.

Renowned grief counsellor Bill Webster says failing to talk about the death leaves the “grieving person feeling that nobody cares.”

“The bereaved person … feels abandoned,” he writes in his book, Lost For Words.

“Grieving people need to talk and talk and talk,” says Webster, executive director of The Centre for the Grief Journey. “Difficult as it may be to hear, we should encourage this process, as each reliving of the person’s life and death can be another reconciliation of their loss.”

I realize that my own fears contribute to the weirdness when no one mentions Corey. I’ve determined that if they don’t, I must.

That’s why I wrote this post. To help people understand that grieving people want—and need—to talk.

Grief takes many forms. People grieve about deceased loved ones, breakups, divorce, job loss, business failures, crushed aspirations, lost opportunities, defeats, and so on.

Take the risk. Ask a grieving person how he or she is doing.

I’ll bet you’ll hear something important. And “thanks.”

Don’t know what to say? To learn more about how you can help a grieving person, I heartily recommend Webster’s book Lost for Words.