Between the economy, the election, natural disasters, and incidental mishaps, we are all under pressure in one arena or another. What is often unrecognized, however, in our fast-paced society is the pressure those who grieve experience. There is a pressure unlike any other for those who have lost a loved one. It is a heinous kind of pressure, for those who have experienced the worst tragedy of our lives. We hope this might be a time in which we are entitled to have nothing other than our grief with which to deal. But no! There are the pressures. Oh, the pressures!
All of a sudden, the calls and the mail come flooding in, demanding to be handled. There are all the records that require attention, the bills to be paid, the accounts to be closed or transferred, the insurance to be filed, the death certificate to be supplied to everyone who had any interest whatsoever. It’s daunting. And everyone demands attention now!! Get it done! File those records! Notify the companies, complete the forms, resubmit the bills that have been misplaced by some system or other.
Oh, yes! Then there are the social pressures. Perhaps they are the worst, because grieving persons hope to encounter understanding and some degree of latitude, at least for a season. When we don’t show up at regular functions, we receive calls. When we stop attending church or get-togethers, we receive calls. When we stop showing up, people wonder if we’re “okay.” Well, no, of course not! We are not okay. We will never be okay again.
And there’s perhaps the worse kind of pressure: the dreaded question, “How are you doing?” It is expressed with all the kindness and heart-felt sympathy in the world. The only problem is there is no answer to that question. Or, should we be able to come up with an answer, you may not want to hear the honest response. How does one honestly answer that question when the bottom of our world has fallen out, when we have not only lost the most important person in our life, but also the future we had hoped to share? How does one reply when it has taken all the energy we can muster just to enter a grocery store without wearing camouflage so as not to be recognized? How do I reply when I am doing everything possible just not to sob over this squash because it’s a reminder!? How do I reply when I want to shout to the heavens, “I’m dying inside!?”
Kindness in the form of a simple greeting, a gentle smile is called for in these tender moments. No one can possibly anticipate how difficult it is for a grieving person to go about those regular tasks and encounter persons without falling into a heap on the floor. The best approach is simply to say, “It’s good to see you.” Or maybe, “I’m praying for you.” You might even say, “Good for you to be here.”
