I lost my spouse and the love of my life over the holidays, and in the days and weeks since, my world has been turned upside down. Grief is an alien land, but there are points of light in the cards, letters, calls that have streamed in. They assure me I am not shipwrecked here alone. They offer immeasurable comfort--balm for the often searing pain I'm experiencing. They are also helping me understand how interconnected we all are and how powerfully impactful a single life can be.
251
@Headwinds
Your loss is wrenching. I pray the cards and letters and calls provide needed solace until the passage of time heals... and it will.
33
@Headwinds. I am so sorry you have lost the love of your life, and I am so happy you found that love with whom to share your life. I do not know you, but my thoughts are with you this morning.
43
Recently I went through cards I had kept all the years keeping those I treasure Among them were those sent after my brother's untimely death and mother's passing. They are as meaningful and as comforting many years afterward. I also kept the NY Times obituary of my beloved Uncle even framing it. All these pieces continue to bring solace and remembrance of those who cared.
Still offering me solace. Thank you to all..
58
Thank you so much for this moving and important piece. My wife died three years ago and daily I cling to everything that reminds me of her: her many framed beautifully intricate needlepoint designs, the wonderful recipes many of which were from her marvelous mother, the framed family photos and the many photo albums, the phone calls from her siblings always made on the anniversary of her death, the book of signatures from the funeral home, the Mass cards and notes of condolence, her own personal close friends and extended family who have embraced me as their own, and most importantly our children who mirror her looks and carry on family holiday traditions she beautifully established. These are ALL gifts for which I am immeasurably grateful.
146
This is so important - something I didn't appreciate until I lost a very close relative in an accident 15 years ago. I got dozens and dozens of letters & notes, and read and re-read these many times. I still have them all saved. Ever since I have bought sympathy cards by bulk, and send them out often to close friends and to co-workers, neighbors, & acquaintances. I know how important they are.
My dad died last year - lived into his 90s. My mom, his wife, has dementia. Though 150 people showed up at the funeral, and my closest friends dropped everything to help me plan the funeral, I can count on my fingers how many cards my mom and I received together. I'm not upset about it, but I am left with just a few cards to read and it made me ponder the shift. I think it is partially from Facebook. When I posted the obituary, 100+ people sent me condolences via a proper emoji or a short comment. I appreciated all of this, but it wasn't quite the same, and my mom certainly doesn't do Facebook, nor do most of her friends. Was it because my mom had dementia? She loved the handful of cards she received, even if she doesn't quite remember who they were from or exactly who died. Did people think it was not worth it to send to her? Maybe. I almost made up more cards to give to her, just so she would have a larger stack of cards.
So thank you for this article. And I encourage anyone reading this to keep sending those cards. It helps!!!
153
@NYT Reader
Your comment and others bring to light yet another way in which Facebook has diminished human interaction.
Everything doesn't have to be fast and easy, kids. Having to work at something makes it more meaningful.
52
"A condolence letter is a gift to the recipient, but it’s a gift to the writer, too."
I was a grief counselor. Having experienced both sides of the room, putting one's thoughts down on paper are important and valuable, especially in the healing process.
By writing a letter or simple note to the bereaved means that they and their loved were remembered and that you took the time to tell them so. Its value and impact could be cherished and remembered for a lifetime.
What I recall the most vivid about my mother's passing was the wake. While much of that night was a blur, what remained clear was the sound of so many people talking and laughing, as if they were at a party. I know that my mother would have LOVED that because she never wanted people to grief and cry after she was gone.
I wrote a letter to her doctor, thanking him for taking such wonderful care of my mother during her final year before she passed. He was so kind and gentle and comforting. He thought he had failed on some level as her physician (I'm sure my old man's constant reinforcement of that belief didn't help matters much) but he had not failed and I needed to share my faith in him that he did everything he could for her. My mother's cancer wasn't anyone's fault. She never addressed her many symptoms until it was too late. But her doctor loved my note and said he kept it on his desk as a constant reminder of unsolicited compassion care shown in such a simple form.
102
Writing letters in general has become a lost art. While an email is nice, it in no way substitutes for stationary or a card, chosen by the writer with the recipient in mind. Writing a note in which one does not have the easy ability that an electronic communique has (to correct grammar, spelling, etc.) means that the writer must think; not only considering what he/she intends to say but how it will be spaced on the paper - all of which takes time. It is this very time that such an effort takes that is an important part of the missive. Not a note dashed off in an odd moment but a deliberate and contemplative act. In the case of a condolence note in particular, the impact both immediate and long term ( a card or note can be placed in a drawer, a book, etc. that one can come upon in an odd moment much later that can bring back a flood of memories) that an email cannot.
Long ago, the writing of all sorts of notes (congratulatory, condolences, responses to invitations, thank yous, etc.) were a standard part of the English curricula in American elementary schools. (My fourth grade English book had a good third of the text dedicated to letter writing). Perhaps, in an age in which the level of discourse has become so toxic, a return to note writing (pen to paper) in all its forms, be once again taught and reinforced. When one has to think, rather than just react, the time involved can result in a measured response fitting to whatever has occurred.
95
@cschildknecht. Yours is a beautiful and exact explanation of the meaning of the handwritten word on paper.
21
@cschildknecht
Not to disparage paper, but especially for older folks, or those alone after a loss, a brief (or long) phone call in the early evening is a gift too. And Ill advocate for the immediate, screen-based forms too: texts, emails - even tweets - can all contribute to the web of love and shared feeling. As long as you know they are likely to be read. I’m well past 50, and don’t use social media, but some of the emails I’ve received after a loss of my own, and some exchanges I’ve initiated after others’ losses, were almost more meaningful than cards because of the spontaneity of those forms and the ease of response. Whatever feels possible - if you are moved to reach out, do it!
21
@cschildknecht
Thank you for your cogent comments. I agree. Unfortunately the US school system stopped teaching cursive writing skills about 10 years ago supposedly so they could spend more time teaching for the standardized tests in math and verbal that determined whether they would qualify for federal funding under "No Child Left Behind", etc.. Unfortunately we are now on the cusp of a society that doesn't know how to put "pen to paper".
16
My husband just passed away on the 27th of December 2018. He had been fading for a few months prior, but it was still a shock. On the day of the viewing, we were overwhelmed by the number of people who came. The bottom floor of the funeral home was filled with people he had touched, came to support his twin brother, friends of my children from childhood, who remembered how he always included kids in ball games played out front. The cards, flowers, everything our friends and family did was so incredibly sweet and just confirmed in my mind, as if I needed it, how lucky I was. I too look over the cards and words of condolence written by all who came and those who couldn’t. It is comforting to know so many appreciated this incredible man, a man who fought in Vietnam, lost a leg there, came back, graduated summa cum laude from university, and had a diverse and challenging career in computers. He did all this and married a naive girl of 19 and welcomed his firstborn son soon after. I always tell my grandchildren, “it was the 70’s”. He was and still is the love of my life, too handsome for a plain Jane like me, I read the notes now to get thru the days and nights. Their very existence are conformation of what an honourable man he was and comfort for me and his children. They are an addition to his legacy for his descendants.
60
I’m a sentimental type too. I save all the cards and messages, even for the beloved dogs I’ve lost.
When my father died, I was in shock. And that was only made worse when my sister turned it into a social event for her friends.
Our mother is 90, with little time left. I want to grieve alone, or just with my adult children. Some people take great comfort in the company of a lot of friends and acquaintances.
I don’t.
8
I've always thought that the expression "I'm sorry for your loss" is just a mechanical response. It seems so impersonal to me. The deceased isn't even mentioned in that statement. But...the words ARE offered as words of comfort. It is a challenge for so many people to offer some level of sympathy, however awkward. And it becomes a fight or flight affair, by either sending a card (easy), phone call, text, etc. Or flight...ignore it, time will pass. Woody Allen said 80% of life is just showing up. In some manner, just show up, or send something.
8
I couldn't read without crying. When my only sibling a brother died suddenly more than 20 years ago, I don't believe either my parents or I ever received a card from one of his friends. His housemate helped me pack up his belongings, only to open the boxes and steal his possessions before the movers arrived. Other possessions that he did not acknowledge belonging to my brother my mother had to ask for them to be sent. After my grandmother died when my mother was out of the country, no one tried to contacted us that we missed the funeral and never received anything belonging to her. I didn't learn about my father's death until after an insurance company contacted me more than two years later to report his wife's son was trying to collect on the policy for his mother when she had been dead for years. My mother has had dementia for years and is dying. Her friends ceased contact with her and never offered to help after she became ill. I don't expect to hear from them or any relations after her death. The pain endured from inhumanity surrounding death is indescribable. I would love to read about recollections of my loved ones. I would love to know their lives mattered to someone. I don't know how I will bear the loss of my mother alone.
9
@ Scientist,
I am so sorry for your loneliness in grief. Consider attending a grief group (many hospices hold them) so you can share your feelings with others who may understand. Your pain is palpable. My heartfelt wishes for you peace in this difficult time.
27
I cook little (if anything) from scratch, always text instead of call, buy gift cards for birthdays, and haven't sewn anything in years. But I did learn something from my grandmothers: SEND A CARD. It is so easy.
13
I have experienced the loss of a parent and a spouse. As an introvert, I found the many demands to listen to the same comments and make the same replies draining. Few had anything to offer but the usual platitudes, and seemed to feel the need to make the gesture, perhaps for fear that some of the judgmental people who have commented on this page would judge them too.
Nothing that anyone else said beyond the closest of family made any difference to my grief or how I grieved. As time passed I quickly forgot all of the platitudes offered. Be aware that while there are those, like the author, who are very needful of attention and elaborate display, there are others who would prefer to grieve privately, and quietly.
10
We lost our dear 19-year-old daughter to leukemia 15 years ago. The cards and letters were appreciated and comforting; it was sad the day they stopped coming. Most friends stepped up, but some were unable to do so. One of the blessings we received from the our daughter’s death was the gift of knowing what to say to those to those who are bereaved. Another blessing was a kinship with the human condition of suffering. Re-reading the written expressions of sympathy, however, proved to be unbearably painful and after several years we got rid of them—they created only misery. We have no regrets. I also got off Facebook, as it was too difficult to see her classmates and friends continuing with college, starting careers, getting married, and having children. Our loss is on so many levels, but we are so grateful we had our precious daughter for nineteen years; we would never give that up to alleviate our grief.
21
When my brother-in-law died suddenly last fall, I was shocked and unprepared for what to do for a beloved sister and the son he'd left behind. His failing health served to heighten my anguish at what they were facing, and the long, loving marriage that ended so abruptly.
How to respond was a painful challenge. When our mother died years ago, we did not share our grief, but mourned separately along with 2 other sisters. It left a deep wound that we each slowly healed from. I immediately knew this family death needed much more, but agonized over how to shape it.
Emails crossed the country; putting words to jumbled feelings became therapeutic. I found myself composing a short poem for my sister; the loves, the passions, the struggle at the end. It was simple and abstract, but served to shape my state of mind at the time.
My poem became a card, and posted to the funeral website, at my sister’s request. It was a huge relief to put words to feelings; it gave my sister great comfort, and many mourning for her. It was my singular expression; from others a handmade gift, a bag of groceries, a FB post, cards in the mailbox.
Yes, this kind of caring is fading from our media driven society; not knowing how to respond is worth admitting, as others mentioned. Margaret Renkl’s touching essay reminds us that we are still part of a shared humanity, (even if it is much larger) that Donne first wrote about. It is testament to the small things that give solace when we most need it.
9
A very profound and helpful column. I am prone to come to funerals and say dumb things, but those I love seem appreciative that I was there to mourn theirs that I truly loved and respected. I guess that is a long way of saying we should feel this for our neighbors and country.
6
Margaret:
You write beautifully.
8
Agreed. Just be good for goodness sake. (Or: "Each small candle lights a corner of the dark." -Roger Waters)
5
I do not like condolence cards at all. I had a pile of them after my dad died and I quit opening them after the first dozen. "I'm so sorry..." For what? Did you kill him? No? Then what are you apologizing for? What am I supposed to say when you apologize for something you didn't do? "Oh, that's OK." Great. Now I'm comforting you?
I think asking people at the office to sign group condolence cards should be prohibited by law.
If you want to write (by which I mean by actual hand) a short letter (which you then mail, with a stamp) to a relative of someone you actually know is deceased, go for it. Just don't write "I'm sorry," and don't make anyone else sign it.
4
“I’m here for you now and moving forward. Tell me whatever you wish. I’m listening “.
11
You ask the grieving "What do you need?" and if nothing, at that moment, you stand with them.
6
Beautifully and thoughtfully said. Thank You.
3
Nod.Smile. Say nothing, please.
2
Yes, cards and letters are appreciated, but to be honest when my husband died suddenly three years ago, I was unable to read most of them and I still haven't. What I found most helpful was people coming by--but do call first--not necessarily to talk, but just to be there. The void is so great that another presence can be most welcome.
10
Thank you @Margaret Renkl. I am also at a time in life where I have lost my beoved elderly and also many of my beloved friends to cancer, to suicide, to.... Yes, I have been lucky I guess to escape grief until my sixties. But now it has found me, and I, like all of the rest of those who continue, must continue as well. Take care.
6
Many years ago my 16 year old son was killed in a motor vehicle accident, where my daughter, his sister was driving. We lived in Maine at that time. My co workers at the hospital I worked at( in the operating room), were amazing, thoughtful and kind. We had no family in the area. A few weeks after the accident, one of the surgeons, came up to me and asked if things were getting back to normal at my house. It took me a minute to process what he had said. I said “no, not really” and walked off. He was particularly socially awkward, and after time I realized he wanted to say something comforting but didn’t know quite how. I now, 35 years later, still remember his body language and the look on his face, and now see it as kindness and concern. I guess one has to understand sympathy can be atypical.
23
As a physician, I teach the art of writing a condolence letter to both my medical students and also to my pediatric cardiology fellows. My fellows write a condolence letter to every family that they cared for who has lost a child.
This is as much a requirement in our fellowship, as learning how to do an echocardiogram or catheterization.
Families care that their loved one was not just some patient on your “list”. They care that you too , remember their child and share your wonderful memories of their child with them.
My 84 year old mother still has the condolence letter her mother ‘s ( my grandmother) doctor wrote to my mother after my grandmother died. When my mother finally gave me the letter to read to my Columbia medical students , she made me promise I would keep it safe forever.
Julie Glickstein M.D
Professor of Pediatrics
Columbia University Medical Center
Director of Pediatric Cardiology Fellowship Program
39
This is so heartening to read. When my mother died, I wrote a note of thanks to each of the numerous physicians who had treated her in the year she lived with us, including the care team in the ER where she spent her final hours. I received exactly one reply, a sympathy card from the admitting staff person at the hospital’s front desk. So telling. I will never forget that.
8
Margaret, thank you for sharing your thoughts; they are well stated. Having lost a child 2 years ago, I know that the grief process is long, and so far for me, unending. One point I would add - it is never too late to express your care for your friend, co-worker, former classmate, etc. In some ways, an expression of condolence after the passage of time is especially well received - keeping the memory of my child alive is and will always be a priority in my own grief process. Receiving expressions of remembrance at anniversaries and birthdays, or acknowledgements of the pain that comes with special holidays, means so very much to our family. Your writing is meaningful to me; thank you.
27
This is beautiful and such sage advice. It is also something true, more than you can ever know until you have experienced that awful grief and the heartbreak of losing someone you loved very much.
My own father died at the age of 74 when I was in my mid twenties. At his funeral, a man I had never met told me that my Dad had taught him to drive in the 1930s. The man had been born with one hand missing several fingers. He explained that my Dad was the only person who believed he could still learn to drive and so my Dad taught him. In 50 years of driving, he had never had an accident, which was a point of pride for him.
It was such a lovely unexpected gift that he gave to me. My Dad’s steadiness, his kindness, his patience all encapsulated in this brief exchange with a stranger. I have never forgotten it and it encouraged me to share a memory or reflect upon a wonderful trait that a person possessed. And it has always been so warmly received, even if it is a bit hesitant or stumbling at the beginning. I highly recommend it.
38
I recently lost both my parents in the span of eighteen months. It absolutely gutted me. What people need to remember is that once the funeral is over and the initial shock of loss fades, then comes the time when the bereaved may feel most vulnerable and lonely. The world keeps turning and everyone has returned to their lives, yet we are left with a very big hole to fill. Please reach out in the months after the funeral to check in and say you are thinking about us. Even if you don't have anything in particular to say, just recognize that grief lingers and it matters that you're there to affirm it.
28
@TinTam I certainly think it's thoughtful to take the time to send a card, but we live in a different time now. I never got anything more than emails when my son died and found them all very sweet and touching. Give your friends a break, please!
2
Just don’t say “I’m sorry for your loss”or the other Hallmark comments. What you say depends a lot on your relationship with the grieving person. When my husband died in an accident just coming to see me and holding my hand or a hug meant more than words. A friend sent me a card with the following which I love and stays with me:
“If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart I'll stay there forever.”
A. A. Milne
That a wonderful thought and Warren Zevon’s “Keep Me In Your Heart” allow the tears to flow and reminds you that love is eternal.
9
I almost always write a note, and sometimes, when I know that the survivor had a difficult relationship with the deceased person, usually a parent,I acknowledge the loss of what 'might have been' rather than what was.
8
I once had the additional duty of being the Air Force notification officer for a small region, because I was the senior officer in the region. Thank heavens, I only had to carry out that role once. I received a call from the Pentagon, given a name and address, and told to immediately drive to the address and notify the parents that their son had died in a training accident, and to notify the Pentagon when I had carried out the order. The details were sketchy, but I was to inform them that officials would come to them the next day with further information, and to carry out their wishes for funeral services and explain all government obligations. The Air Force would withhold any notification of media until I reported back. It was sad, sad, sad.
I don’t know what I would have done while my son was serving two tours in Iraq as a young Army Officer, if I had seen an official car pull into my driveway, and a person in uniform came to the door. Thankfully, it never happened.
When a loved one dies, a large part of you dies also. Consolation helps, but only goes so far. I am mourning the loss of my wife, to cancer, 6 months ago, and I will never get over it.
22
My mother died suddenly when I was 27. I discovered quickly enough that some people who I thought were friends disappeared. Did they not know what to say? Was I too sad? Were they ever really friends? On the other hand, other people who I barely knew became dear, lifelong friends.
When my father died nearly 20 years later, the nicest thing said to me was from a wonderful friend who had never met my father but who said he knew him through me. This still makes me happy.
When one of my brothers died at the age of 56, I received numerous thoughtful cards, notes and phone calls from colleagues from around the country. The two most meaningful contacts were first from a younger work colleague in another department who I barely knew. When he first saw me after the funeral, I got a big hug and condolences while he fought tears. The second vivid memory is a condolence note I received about 4 months after my brother’s death from a colleague halfway across the country. He said he was embarrassed to have waited so long but that he had trouble writing it as he couldn’t imagine losing his brother. My response was how touched I was that my brother and I were still on his mind.
I guess this is all to say that with every loss, I learn something more about myself and those who are part of my life.
17
@LAC
Actually, not knowing what to say is totally inexcusable.
One needs only to google "What to say to someone grieving" and a host of suggested words and phrases are offered on various websites.
Just get a sympathy card, copy a few lines that fit for you and mail the card. No excuses!
The only wrong thing to say is to nothing.
9
There are countless reasons why people respond, or don't respond, to someone's loss. Sadly, most people don't realize that it's OK to send a card that says, I'm sorry for your loss and I don't quite know what to share. Social media, unquestionably, has given people an escape route to writing a hard copy note. For the family in pain, that may not be enough. Perhaps if we could all slow down for a few moments and make a better effort to communicate, all parties would feel a bit more connected.
7
My younger brother died in a terrible accident last June due to negligence on the part of a professional arborist company, trimming trees for the local power company. We were very close at one time; not so much in recent years. That didn't take away the sting or hurt that has dogged me off and on for months.
I wound up cleaning out a lot of his collection of papers and music, including a goofy newspaper we put out when in grammar and high school. Reading through his old papers and listening to the crazy recordings we made years ago reminded me of how intelligent he was and of his advanced sense of humor and quick wit.
Listening to those recordings and reading his papers takes me back in time instantly. I still laugh when I hear the recordings of Ronald Reagan's State Of The Union that my brother proceeded to chop up and edit in the style of Vaughn Meader (The First Family), using New York Times transcriptions to determine his edit points.
These recordings won't mean as much to my kids, but I won't part with them. Or the wacky newspapers. They're all I have left of someone who was taken from us way too soon...
11
When my uncle died recently, I went to a card store for a sympathy card. The selection was in the back, hidden — and there were more cards for deceased pets than for people! It was strange and left me a bit sad for the state of the world. Maybe it means nothing, but I think actually it does indicate something about how we grieve.
10
My dad died when I was in high school. None of my friends knew how to handle it or support me. I get that we were 16 and 17 year olds, but my friends treated me more like my dad's death was contagious. . I absolutely remember being angry with my friends for how abandoned I felt. It was hard to have a normal senior year of high school.
My mom died a few years ago. She lived in the Midwest, I'm on the west coast. I ended up being the one to deal with a lot of the clean up of her house. It was hard, but I was glad I had the separation of geography to be able to go home to my family.
7
I lost my 102 year old mother just a month ago. She passed peacefully, taking a nap that didn't end. She was mentally sharp to the day she died. She was a people person and built relationships throughout her life, especially through letters and emails. When friends died, she carried on corresponding with their children. In planning her funeral, I was gently told that perhaps attendance would be low, given her age. That wasn't right in her case. People came. People wrote. The people who came also wrote, because she had written - regularly and for year, and because they wanted me to know how much her attention had meant to them. In fact, on the afternoon before she died, we spent hours rereading the Christmas cards and letters she had received. And now, her Christmas (and "contact these people when I die") address list of well over 100 names has become mine.
17
My mother died last year. I was so hurt that people close to me did not send cards or flowers or followed through on promised donations. I knew it was a silly thing to be upset about—they’d been there for me in other ways—but her death was raw and the lack of acknowledgement—that she had lived, that she meant so much to me, that she deserved that small formality—was something that deepened my grief. Everyone. Send a card.
32
One of my regrets in life is not attending the funeral of a friend and colleague's mother. I was young at the time and didn't know his Mom personally. At the time, I didn't realize how important my support would've been to him and since then, our relationship was never the same.
I've tried to make up for this by always being there for other friends and family in time of their grief. I'm lucky that, despite being well into middle age, I've never experienced, yet, the loss of a close family member or friend. I'm sure that when I do, I'll really know how my friend felt and hope I'll understand that some people just might not know what to do when it comes to offering support.
8
Speak from the heart, and don't use platitudes such as 'sorry for your loss', 'my sympathies are with you at this difficult time', 'stay strong', etc. If you're at a loss for words, say so. If you feel nervous or uncomfortable or scared to talk to the mourning person...you're scared of saying the wrong thing or upsetting them... say so. Just being honest is so much better than hollow rote words and phrases.
Often times our discomfort, or hesitation to comfort, speak to or acknowledge the person in mourning has more to do with us, and our own fear or lack of experience with death, than it does with any supposed desire to 'not bother' the other person. In many instances, the mourner does want to talk about the deceased...they want to reminisce...they want to talk about the pain they are going through... Granted in some instances, they may not want to talk at all. But you have to at least lend them your ear, in case they are looking for someone to talk to. Don't just 'ignore' the mourner as soon as the funeral/shiva/service has ended, and just because you feel too uncomfortable to talk to them, or to hear the pain they may be experiencing. We who are not mourning need to take on some of the pain, in order to help our mourning friends and acquaintances. And we do this by being there for them, and listening.
17
I remember my mom saying to me several decades ago that we are all mourners. I always say something to anyone who has lost a loved one. When my beloved husband died, several of our acquaintances never mentioned his passing. One of them told my daughter he didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry" is more than enough.
11
When I was in college, the mother of one of my classmates died suddenly. A few of us rushed out of our dorm to the girl's house to see her. My room-mate did not go with us. A few years later my room-mate's mother died and she mentioned how much it meant to her to hear from friends, and how much she regretted not going with us to see the first girl. She said that the reason she didn't go was that she didn't know what to say. But then she realized it didn't have anything to do with what to say--it was just our presence that counted.
I think it's the same thing in any kind of remembrance, even a note, in which one must "say" something. It's the kindness behind the action that comes across to give comfort.
When my father died my mother gave me the flowers from the funeral to take home. I looked at them over and over, getting great comfort from each petal. Then when my mother died my sister intervened and directed to the minister that the flowers should be given to people in a hospital. The act, which my sister felt was charitable, was so cruel to me. I needed the comfort of those flowers.
In any case it's important to realize how hyper sensitive a person is at the loss of a loved one and to respond in the most kind and loving way possible.
10
My 32 year old daughter died suddenly 6 years ago today. The cards and notes I received from her old school friends and from people I hadn't seen for ages were very comforting.
15
@Speranza I am so sorry for your loss.
4
I /we are inexcusably late with getting a condolence card and note out to an extended family friend who suffered a 'difficult' loss ... one of those that aren't covered in the Hallmark sympathy card section.
Which, I know from experience, makes it all the more important to reach out and acknowledge same.
I can't explain our procrastination or lack of action ... may this timely piece but us into motion this week.
13
My brother died at age 19, my father at age 52. That was a long time ago. Then my mother, the most generous, beautiful person I've ever known died at age 76. I didn't cry much -- she had a full life. None of my beloved family members ended up in a nursing home including my 98 year old grandmother who lived on her own until she died. But the saddest day of my life was when my beloved dog Lightning (Australian Cattle Dog) died at age 5 (lymphoma). I've had many dogs who I loved dearly and I think of them often (especially Ruby, the Poodle'Chow mix I rescued in Red Hook, Brooklyn in 2001) but Lightning was a once-in-a-lifetime dog and I grieved for two or three years over her. She got me in touch with my innermost being/my soul. So when someone you know loses a beloved dog or cat, send a card or note of sympathy. Love is love -- no matter the species.
26
@Carol As George Eliot wrote "Animals make such agreeable friends. They ask no questions. They pass no judgements." Love is indeed love.
9
I have so regretted when I didn't send a note of condolence to someone I did not know but had experience with her lost son. I know I would want to know about the experiences my parents had with others. Those experiences "round them out", make them more than parents, make them people to others. This article and the responses are testament to what I will not hesitate to do again(god forbid).
8
Thank you for sharing this beautiful piece. It is difficult to know what to say at a time of profound loss, and your writing reinforces the need and importance of saying something, of being there to lend support, show love. I’m still reeling from the passing of my beloved “teacher of the year,” younger, only sibling, my brother last year. Mike was a much loved father, husband, friend. When Mike passed after suffering from brain cancer, there was an outpouring of care from his high school family. I was advised not to tell my mother because she suffers from Alzheimer’s, and it’s also very sad. I pray I am doing the right thing. My mother has only asked for him twice in the past year, (although the day Mike died, we were with him in hospice, I learned my mother was inconsolable, not able to be comforted, and cried ALL day). My further sadness lies in the fact that my mother’s only sister has NOT written or called Mike’s wife, my sister-in-law, or me, since Mike’s passing. Not once. At Mike’s memorial, there even seemed to be sense of flippancy, that SHE and her kids were put out somehow. It was, and is not shared grief. My heart is broken over the loss of my father earlier, my brother, and my mom’s cognitive impairment. The caring hospice nurse is right. You do remember who didn’t show up, but how do you cope with such selfishness, arrogance, carelessness, especially from (blood) family? I’m at a loss.
4
@Elaine O’Brien-
I too have had experiences like this one where the response (non-response) of a key person was incomprehensible to me.
For some things and some circumstances, no explanations make sense to me. I try to remind myself that every person sees things differently and that often, fear (of saying the wrong thing, of confronting another’s loss) blocks people from empathy. It is what it is, I guess. If I fail to release my expectations of how someone will respond, I can get terribly hurt. Trying not to have judgment in these cases is very hard. I am sorry for your loss.
8
When my father died a few months ago, my family was incredibly touched by the thoughtfulness of some people in taking the time to write a little note or share a memory. Many of them were people my father had known through business and whom we had never even met. Truly, it means more than people realize. That said, I am forgiving of those who didn't reach out because I also realize that, before now, I had completely underestimated and misunderstood true grief and the importance of these connections. No doubt, I said too little many times. I won't do that any more.
15
Grieving -- as this op-ed and posts demonstrate -- is best experienced as a community process so that we know we're not alone and our experience of loss is shared and matters.
13
My father was active in his church and used to accompany class trips from the parochial grammar school to an amusement park, so the children knew him. When my mother died, the nun who ran the trips brought her third grade class to the funeral Mass. Afterward each student wrote a letter of condolence. When my father, sister, and I read them together, we laughed and cried. Each letter included a drawing, some with my father crying and them in the picture. But what was particularly moving was how many of them were worried about him not having anyone to take care of him. "Who is taking care of you?" "Who is washing your clothes?" "Are you getting enough to eat?" "Is anyone fixing your supper?" I think they identified with him by projecting how they would feel if their parent died. My father died seven years after my mother, and I still have those letters. Their sincerity and charm still touch me, and also the fact that their fondness for him shines through.
23
I had a friend from college who died in her mid-30's and left behind three young children, all below the age of 9.
When the oldest - the only girl - went off to college - a group of us put together a book of memories and photos from her mother's college days.
The young woman so appreciated us sharing our memories of her mom.
It was a pleasure and an honor to do this for my friend's daughter.
33
@Siobhan: What a wonderful way for you to share your love of your friend with her daughter. Your thoughtfulness allows the new college student to know her Mom as she was when she, too, was in college. A priceless gift.
18
Such a beautiful essay, and many eloquent comments, on the most difficult of subjects. As one who lost a parent in my teens, the only thought I would add is to make sure not to forget that children who lose a sibling or parent are suffering deeply too. Most people simply told me to “be strong” for my mother and to “take care of her” and never acknowledged my loss or pain. I have always remembered the few people who expressed sympathy to me and who tried to help me through such a terrible time.
18
Some one has written that while grief is universal, it is endured by each of us individually. The comments here for Margaret Renkle's memorable essay show how similar those experiences can be. It is one thing to lose a parent, favored aunt or teacher, and the loss can be profound, but the loss of a child, of whatever age, is nothing in an advanced stage of life I could have ever foreseen. To lose a child is, as I've heard now so often from those who didn't even know my daughter, 'not in the natural order of things.....'
Yes, I agree and though I don't say this at such times, it's as if part me has gone... just vanished. And I feel existentially diminished.
So, what the expressions of others can accomplish in the death of that child, is to acknowledge that life belongs to the living and we expect one another to keep on doing that! It doesn't matter whether it's a written note or merely verbal as in a phone call. What matters is that the friend or colleague or associate acknowledges the bond that remains and that it is significant to them and to you.
What diminishes us all is when, for whatever reason, we avoid or neglect to reach out and say or do something .... This essay should be posted in every church, temple or community center in the land. Thank you Margaret Renkle for reminding us what it means to be human.
13
I lost my beautiful 13 year old son 8 1/2 years ago and, though the resulting post-traumatic stress has gone, the depression still lingers and the flashbacks are still shocking when they occur.
But what also stays with me and makes my gorge rise whenever I think about it are memories the well-meaning, painfully offensive platitudes that a small number of people came out with; expressions like "he's in a better place" or "it's God's chosen plan".
I am therefore _not_ of the opinion that saying anything is better than nothing. Rather than presuming that the grieving person will be of the same opinion as you (that it's actually a "good thing" that s/he's gone), just keep your opinion to yourself.
29
This is all true; it's amazing how many people steer clear of the bereaved because of their own discomfort, not knowing "what to say" and claiming they are just trying to give the person their privacy.
However, it is even worse when a person gets a diagnosis of a terminal illness, whether cancer or Alzheimer's. He or she is far from dead but people start staying away, making the family's isolation and sense of aloneness even harder to bear.
It's good to remember that it's not always about us.
25
@Mary
And even family members stay away...
3
We have suffered unspeakable tragedy and loss in our family over the last 4 years. Dear friends and family we hold close have buoyed us up and given us strength, with caring notes, quick phone visits, and every other manner of checking in to show their care,concern, and support over time. And each and every one is appreciated, beyond measure. Except for the quick and solitary comment from 2 people, who stated only this: "There are no words". Somehow, even today, months and years later, this lonely sentence remains, in my mind, lacking in sympathy, understanding, humanity, empathy. Hardly that "gift to the recipient" that Ms. Renkl's excellent piece hopefully inspires all of us to write when the time comes.
6
My husband died October 16, 2017. I treasure the emails, notes and cards I received. A man who lives in the next neighborhood had chatted occasionally with Ernest as he walked by with his three little dogs. He took the time to write a sweet and funny note on the funeral obit page. It meant a lot to me that he took the time to do so. I finally was able to flag him down a few months later to say thanks.
15
As a physician I saw a great deal of loss and of grief. The most important lesson from this was that people have a very deeply felt need not only to receive compassion, but to give it as well.
When we embrace the compassion of others we are doing them a kindness as well.
19
What a beautiful article. After my father died 22 years ago, I realized how important it was for the grieving family to see friends and acquaintances come to the visitation and funeral, and that all the cards and notes of condolence meant so much. After that I was very diligent about attending wakes and sending sympathy cards of people I worked with or had a passing acquaintance, knowing how much it meant to me and my family. It takes very little effort to make someone's grief lessen a bit.
19
My sister passed away almost 3 weeks ago. She had been ill for the bulk of her life so we cannot say that her young death was a surprise. It is nonetheless wrenching. My father lost his companion and caregiver. Several pets lost their mommy. My brother and I lost the only person who could fully grasp the depths our morbid senses of humor. My sister and I had often observed that we defined ourselves in opposition to each other, like yin and yang. We simultaneously didn’t get, but also completely understood each other. I was petrified of water and her fond wish was to teach me to surf. I love to travel and she never got on an airplane. I take pictures of plumerias and consider sending them to her before I remember that she will not see them. But as I snorkeled off a beach in Wailea, peering at tortoises the size of small cars and fishes as bright as her Amazon parrot, I realized I was not terrified of the water. I feel like I am carrying a piece of her spirit with me. Perhaps I must feel this way to prevent myself from fracturing in half.
Aloha, Elena Devee
39
@Elizabeth
I feel like I am carrying a piece of her spirit with me
you are and it is best to let her take care of you and you not having to take care of her
3
The gift of shared grief is a gift that is often left unshared for many of us. In the years since my father died and the much more recent loss of my mother I have found that many flee from both death and grief leaving us behind to mourn in isolation and silence. I have found this true for many of the losses and tragedies of life that make people uncomfortable or remind them of life's fragility. If you have friends and family that are willing and able to share in a loss and the grief that comes with it you are fortunate indeed. Cherish it, such gifts are precious.
14
Quite frankly, I hated it when people said, I'm so sorry for your loss, and especially when someone said, it was all part of God's plan. But, I never said anything about it.
To people who have suffered a terrible loss and are shrouded with grief, I always say, it really stinks, I know. And I always exclaim how lonely it must feel, because that's how it felt for me.
13
Not everyone feels this way. Some people do not wish to be reminded of the dead, or have any keepsakes. When his first wife died, Theodore Roosevelt was heartbroken, but he never spoke of her again. If you write a condolence letter and the person does not respond, this may be the reason.
6
Renkel writes: "The shock of grief made me lose track of all manner of kindnesses in those first impossible days. . . . I had hugged them, I had cried on their shoulders, and then I had forgotten they had come."
This is so often true, but not often described, and rarely with such eloquence. And it could be yet another reason for hesitating to express condolences - they may go unacknowledged. When it's so difficult to know what to do or say, it's possible to imagine that the effort was unappreciated, or worse, unwelcome.
Believe this: Those who have lost someone dear to them will always be grateful to those who remember.
13
@Tochter
excellent those last words if not today tomorrow
1
Your articles are wonderful
reminders of how to be thoughtful
and how to be our better selves.
Reaching out to a friend going
through the passing of someone
beloved is a kind act that has huge meaning for one who is grieving.
To know that your loved one has not
been erased, whose memory exists for others eases pain.
4
A few weeks ago my former daughter in law lost her mother. I wanted to send more than flowers so i wrote a poem. It is here for any one to receive hope and comfort if they so choose. It's for every one.
WITHIN A WINK OF HIS EYE
God holds all of us
Within a wink of his eye--
Those who have lived,
Are now living,
Who will live,
On the tip of his little finger.
Pat Mckeage
I still have much agnostic blood flowing in my body but for some reason i believe or try to believe all love is eternal. A struggle.
4
@Nightwood
thats what i was seaching for
1
Say anything comforting, but please do not say, as someone said to me when my son died after an automobile accident, that "his death hit her so much" that she feared for her daughter. That and more self-centered remarks came from a so-called friend at least six weeks after my son died, without a word from her before that. The loss of my son was not her loss; she didn't know him. But she made it about her instead of giving me comfort. No one needs that kind of "friend."
My real friends took the time to call me and to send notes of condolence. That helped.
15
@Barbara People can be awkward and weird. It's possible the person who said that to you regretted it right away.
3
Only a week has passed since the death of my 96 year old father. I have been with family the past few days and the sharing of the loving thoughts of others to all of us has been one of the most touching and healing experiences. The simplest of words from friends and colleagues has meant the world to me.
14
@Alice S
This is one of the reasons why the Jewish custom of sitting Shiva is a good one. For the period of Shiva the mourners are not alone. They are fed and taken care of and people come and go and share stories. In my own case I found that after the week I was more than ready to have some alone time.
7
This is beautiful. And true. My friends tease me that I'm the last person who writes letters and notes, but they always matter and I've never regretted sending any of them. If a note provides one small moment of comfort to someone, it is worth every word.
6
Margaret: Thank you for this. It is always so hard to know what to say. The book "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" has a collection of things people say, meaning to help but accidentally hurting instead. This remembrance is a good reminder that, when you don't know what to say to someone bereaved, just tell a story about the deceased. You don't have to be a poet - which is a relief to all of us non-poets out here.
10
I lost a dear friend and work collegue in very tragic circumstances twenty-two years ago. I remember spending an entire evening writing, what was for me, the first condolence note I had ever written, to her 40 year-old husband, whom I had only met once.I agonized over every word and every sentence- writing, rewriting, crossing out words, changing sentences -trying to put down on paper all my favorite, often funny, memories of her, which I knew her grieving husband would never have been aware of. When I sent the note, I crossed my fingers that I had written something that would bring a little comfort and celebrate her life. Two months after the funeral he called to thank me for my note which he said had lifted his spirits and actually made him laugh a little. He told me that although he was touched by the many, many cards and sympathy letters he had received, some had been so religious (he’s not), or so bleak that that they made him despair about ever being happy again. He asked if he might call me sometimes to chat about not just our memories but his hopes for the future. I told him I’d be glad to talk, but also referred him to a grief counselor I knew.
We were married two years later and are both grateful for that letter of condolence which brought us together.
62
@Susan - your experience is such a great reminder to all of us: share memories of time spent with that person who is gone. What a delightful outcome of your sincere and real condolences.
9
Delightful. Not a stretch at all.
7
Correction:On line 3 it should read : we shouldn't hesitate ....I left out hesitate.Also there is one thing is a new line starter.Apologies since I had to hastily write my comment before the Inter Conn, in case, failed.TMD.
1
Twice in Seamus Heaney's poem about the death of his young brother, Heaney writes of what others said to comfort the family. It is important.
Mid-Term Break
I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close.
At two o'clock our neighbours drove me home.
In the porch I met my father crying—
He had always taken funerals in his stride—
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.
The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand
And tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble'.
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand
In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.
At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived
With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.
Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,
Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple,
He lay in the four-foot box as in his cot.
No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.
A four-foot box, a foot for every year.
23
Say their name. Share their stories. Remember them to the ones left behind. All we want is for them to be remembered. I lost my 23 year old son 7+ years ago.
I wish his friends would share the pictures and the silly stories.
30
In a spring decades earlier,
Mourning was forbidden by tyrants in times of War and Terror,
We shouldn't to comfort each other,
Whether we are each others' friends Mother,Father,brother or sister,
Too much buried feeling is mind destroyer,
A mourners' falling tear,
It is not a waste but one with healing power. There is one thing we need to remember,
Mourning is un attainable luxury for those living in the midst of War.
So,it is not a sign of weakness to lean in each others shoulder,
It is a healthy reaction and great comforter plus pain releaver.TMD.
Note:During the74-91 Red Terror Era of a Marxist Leninist Milit Dictatorship in this country people who try to hold funeral procession or mourning gathering for executed Student or young activists or intellectuals were risking indefinite imprisonment or worse.
7
When my husband died suddenly in 2017, I was overwhelmed that so many people came to his funeral and that every employee in my office also came, even flying across country and interrupting their summer vacation to do so. It meant so much. The considerate, thoughtful people who sent condolence notes were also appreciated. I didn't have the energy to respond to all of them, but the support of the outside world at that critical time reminded me that although my life dramatically changed, it was not going to end.
22
One place that most people leave nothing more than an “I’m sorry for your loss” is the funeral home website. I understand that most people don’t want to risk offending or making light of the situation but I remember the people who took the time to share longer memories of my mother—really funny ones, sad ones, and everything in between—but they were much fewer. They made such an impact on me that I decided to pay it forward, so the family of the next person who died got a little story about some specific aspect of the deceased’s behavior that was funny but spot on. It was much appreciated. The point is, don’t be afraid to express yourself or tell funny stories. You not only honor the many sides of the deceased, but you let the family know their loved one had an impact on someone other than them.
20
Beautiful article that inspires me to mail the condolence cards I bought last week for those I know who just lost their daughter and sister and to write another note to a friend who lost her adult son to cancer a year ago. I kept all the condolence cards from my parents’ services also. Thank you.
9
Thank you for giving me the words for 3 cards I need to write.
8
My sweet 21 year old son died from a brief illness this past summer. I received great comfort from the kind and thoughtful cards I received from many people. I took even more comfort from the nice note I received over the holidays from one of his friends, telling me what a good friend my son was to him. On the other hand, I was hurt by some friends and family who completely ignored what happened. I have a difficult time working with colleagues whom I've known for many years and had a good working relationship with but who did not acknowledge his death and my loss. I understand people don't know what to say, but sometimes, just saying you don't know what to say is what you need to do. And a Facebook comment of "I'm sorry for your loss" to my post about my boy's death is not enough to "count" as a true expression of condolence. Take the 10 minutes to write and send a card.
339
@TinTam I'm so sorry for your loss. I don't know you or your son, and I don't have kids, so I can't imagine what you're feeling. But I'm glad you wrote. People need to hear this.
76
@TinTam My heart goes out to you. I too am puzzled by those who make another's loss all about them and their discomfort in acknowledging that loss. It hurts deeply. Bless you and your family.
44
I’m so very sorry for the loss of your child. Those who can’t bring themselves to offer words of kindness are cowards. When my father died, I too found Facebook emoji “condolences” lazy and hurtful...especially from people I had known and loved for years...some since childhood. I suppose some of it was my fault because I posted the death announcement and funeral details on Facebook. However, the death announcement was in the newspaper too. Only three friends of many ever bothered to call or see me after Shivah; only one made a donation to a charity selected by my family; all but two relatives left me high and dry. Social media has killed true human relations when it comes to death and most won’t realize it until it personally affects them.
78
From all of us who have received a welcome letter and who may also have had to write a difficult one, thank you. Your essay is a blessing.
7
My wife and I were told this morning that she should stop chemo and go under hospice care. I had been expecting this and thought I was mentally prepared, but I'm not. After reading this article I thought the last thing I want when this time comes, is condolences, it would only remind me of the last 40 years.
But maybe I'm being selfish, maybe the idea is to let friends and family share their grief and maybe sometime in the future reading them will bring back good memories.
I don't know.
15
@Dave,
This is a very difficult journey and everyone takes it in their own way and in their own time. Your friends will be a great comfort, but ultimately you will need to find a new perspective on life. Remember to breathe. Take care of yourself.
15
Of course you don’t know.
In time your feelings will be, well whatever they will be. And those around you may sometimes make you angry for the things they say or don’t say. In truth, you might be, for a very good reason, angry regardless of what they do or don’t do. Am saying a prayer for you and your wife.
10
Your words ring so true. As an avid letter and note writer, I try to remember friends who have lost those closest to them with little notes over time - just asking how they are doing, sending a clipping about something they might find interesting, and so on. Knowing about grief myseelf makes me conscious that these little gestures will have some meaning.
9
A simple "I am so sorry" usually says all that is needed without the awkward verbal wallpaper that often serves only to make the situation more awkward.
8
We buried my father on a cold, rainy, windy January day about 90 miles south of where we held the funeral in Atlanta, Ga. Family and some friends made the trek to the family burial place, my father's home town. At one point, I looked back behind me and saw one of my father's co workers standing there in the rain and I thought, that dear man came all the way with us. I felt wrapped in warmth and caring. I've never forgotten that and how much it meant to me. There were other acts of remembrance and caring by others and I remember them. I always try to emulate those acts of generosity when loved ones of friends and family die and they are in the throes of grief.
22
My mother, who was an avid animal lover, volunteered at an animal rescue near where she lived. When she passed away, her service took place 3 hours from there, where she'd been in care near my younger brother's home. My brothers and I were incredibly touched to see the head of that rescue in attendance. It spoke volumes about how much she had meant to others. It also said a great deal about that kind man. I don't remember everyone who was at the service, but I have never forgotten him.
18
@Katherine my father died in late march, 2001, at the age of 78. he had suffered numerous, major and minor, cerebral vascular accidents starting in 1993 when he and my mother were vacationing in austria. his death was not unwelcome as his life had diminished greatly. we had him cremated, no traditional wake, rather a celebration of him at my sister's house.
he used to tell stories about life growing up in marlborough mass during the late twenties and thirties. marlborough always looked to me like it had stayed fixed in that time era.
two of his childhood friends showed up at the party. we had all heard their names over the years, but had never met them. we were all somewhat stunned at this act of remembrance, but very grateful for it nonetheless.
10
We all experience grief differently. While I have hand written several heartfelt and sincere letters to family friends over the years who were grieving, I was unable to open any of the letters sent to me when I lost my mom so unexpectedly. It was as if opening the letters made it even more real.
10
What a thoughtful and true piece Margaret Renkl has written. Nothing gives more comfort or grounding after the death of a loved one than words or recognition. Beautifully written.
12
Thank you for this. Having lost my mom recently (she had a long and full life), I marvel at the web that holds her place even after she is gone. Wedding gifts (lots of pyrex!), some never opened, mementos, pictures, and memories of travels, every birthday and anniversary card she ever received.
Sorting through all these remains of her life, it is the cards from her singing groups, her bridge groups, her lunch groups, sisterhood, that are the rawest, the most painful and loving. Mostly strangers to me, these people reach out, creating another, albeit fleeting, web.
16
When my husband died, the notes that tugged at my heart the most were those from people I didn't know- but clearly thought a lot of him, and cared enough to write.
Yes, a web.
13
THE OTHER WEEK, I participated in a Shabbat Candle Lighting service at the senior community where my wife's mother lives. When we reached the point and asked if anyone was saying the memorial prayer, or Kaddish, a lady raised hand and told us that she was saying the prayer for her husband, who had died the night before. Several family members had accompanied her to the service. Afterward, I wanted to offer my support, so I asked the widow if she remembered her wedding day. Then her honeymoon. Then her husband's military service. Then what they both studied in college. Then about his professional life. With each question, I saw her sadness lift, as she remembered the attachment she felt with her husband and the joy she experienced in their marriage of 76 years. For seniors, and I suspect for most people, asking about their most wonderful memories is a powerful gift. For by reminiscing, the past becomes what is present. The widow was uplifted by her own memories, as were other family members were, as they shared her recounting of them. I guess it's an occupational hazard for a psychologist to ask people to share parts of their lives with me. I too felt uplifted by the strong attachment of the family members and their shared enjoyment of treasured memories. As the widow felt empowered by her ability to bring back the spirit of the relationship she had with her husband, the other family members and I were uplifted by her sharing her married life with the rest of us.
111
@John Jones
How thoughtful of you to ask those questions--and then to share with NYT readers. A double thank you.
14
Thank you for this important reminder to reach out. I received some meaningful notes when each of my parents passed years ago from very unexpected people and they were a comfort. I've been struggling trying to think of what to write to a former friend re her recent loss and this helps me to stop thinking about it and to go ahead and write.
24
As a hospice nurse, I can tell you that most of the bereaved remember who does NOT contact them. They feel abandoned. So reach out even if it is a stumbling mess or you are not sure what to say or do. A silent hug. A quiet walk. Being there counts. One of the best cards I received after my mother died was a blank card with a heart on the front. Inside a friend wrote, "no words".
Words matter less than presence. Just be present.
139
Thank You
3
For those who don’t know, there is something called “Lifeposts” which is an online site where people can create a tribute to a friend, family member or even an animal. Everyone - family, friends, colleagues - can contribute stories and memories, and it can be updated over a period of years, as people deal with the death over time. So, the internet postings can be for a good purpose and gathered into one place and seen by all.
I agree. A handwritten note is becoming a lost art. It is deeply meaningful. Something about seeing a person’s actual handwriting is moving. It contains their essence. It means they chose a card, sat down, thought of what to put into words, and tried to say the right thing. It’s more than a gesture; it’s a gift. I don’t think this is something many parents teach their children anymore and that’s sad.
Thank you for this lovely essay. It, too, is a gift.
29
Never underestimate the power of the pen nor the impact kind and compassionate words can hold.
Thank you Ms. Renkl for sharing your gift of grief. Your columns usually bring tears to my eyes because they touch my soul so deeply. I always walk away learning something, I am more appreciate of something I would have taken for granted, and I realize I am better off for having read your incredible words. Everyone of your columns are a grand slam.
39
So tenderly written. Thank you Ms Renkl for this piece.
I worry about not being able to find the right words and feel my letter or email will appear stilted or too formal.
Yet as you say, it is important to those who are grieving to know that the departed touched many lives and will be remembered by many besides the immediate family.
I will keep this piece in mind when I write condolences in future.
31
To the author: This is a beautiful reminder that all of us have an identity built of our memories and experiences. The scraps of evidence that we keep are part of the crazy quilt of our lives. You are your mother’s daughter.
30
“I am so sorry for your loss.” If you knew the decedent, add something nice you remember about them. In person. A written note. On the phone. Even an email. No sincere expression of sympathy is wasted.
46
When I was recovering from my brother's sudden death in 2012, receiving cards soothed my broken heart. Then as weeks and months went by, phone calls and emails gently checking in on me made all the difference in the world.
When we are in the midst of losing someone or someone has just did, connecting to friends and family help us keep going. And I don't want to leave out nature. Being outside and feeling a part of the world also helps. A month after my brother died, I was driving on a country road right after a light rainstorm. To my surprise, I noticed the beginning of a rainbow forming on the road ahead of me. When I drove thru it, I was surrounded by an intense golden glow. It was incredibly healing.
243
Beautiful, BSR.
Strangers suffer with you.
“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.”
- Washington Irving
213
@Socrates Thank you for that quote from Washington Irving - so a propos - and your comment. Another side of you.
33
@BSR Beautifully written! I have happy tears in my eyes remembering my mother, and wonderful growing up in Iowa City, Iowa. And I am over 80 years old. Thank you.
25
Thank you again Mrs. Renkl for this beautiful column.
I too saved all the written notes after my mother's sudden death. Didn't even looked at Facebook and ignored text messages about her passing.
A condolence note should not be an afterthought squeezed between posting grandchildren's latest antics and fun vacation pictures.
11
Today, Monday, was my husband's last day on earth one year ago. I cherish all the words from everyone afterward during those early months clouded by the cataracts of grief. And I cherish the recent emails and texts from friends and family who remember the 'first anniversary' this week. Still digging out on acknowledgements but will get there as I read and re-read every word. Thank you to anyone who writes to remember loved ones. It's never too late.
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@eoBeautifully written. It rings so true
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@eo You write with the same clarity as Ms Renkl about the loss of your husband - 'months clouded by the cat acts of grief' is so evocative and rang true with me. I had a friend who sent me a card on the first Mother's Day after my mother's death, and this touched me beyond words. Such a thoughtful act. Acts like that have taught me to be more compassionate with others who have experienced a loss.
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@eo
Your post brought tears to my eyes.
Sending a caring and kind note is the written equivalence of a tender and comforting hug.
I am so very sorry for your loss.
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Deeply true
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Dear Margaret - I just want you know that I look forward to your columns more than anything else currently written. You are one of Nabokov's heirs.
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You are a master of the lyrical essay. The way you weave these two losses together is altogether...delightful.
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Shared grief is the epitome of humanity. A gift that soothes the soul, mends the heart, and makes tomorrow possible.
Thank you.
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This past weekend, I went to a memorial service for a close neighbor, whose life was cut short after a fierce battle with cancer. My grief is not that of her children, grandchildren or survivors. But I let them know what she meant to me, shared memories that reflected the best things about her, showed a recent gift from her to me that spoke of her generosity and exquisite taste. Cards too, so there would be something to hold onto.
We can't erase the sting of loss, but it is important to show survivors that their loved one factored into other lives and was appreciated by those whose lives they touched. We all ultimately live on in others.
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@NM "I let them know what she meant to me, shared memories that reflected the best things about her, showed a recent gift from her to me that spoke of her generosity and exquisite taste."
So true. Sharing another aspect of a person's life helps the grieving family enjoy a greater fullness of the deceased's life.
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Ms. Renkl is again so spot on. I wrote a blog post after the sudden death of a good friend with whom I had spent time as a wilderness ranger. I don't write for fame and fortune--only to express myself and to try to write better--but I decided to send the post to the man's family. They absolutely loved it, and his daughter put it on FB (yuk!) with the comment "If you are my friend, you will read this." (Please.) I told of things the man did that they never knew, what he taught me, the things we shared, for those who head into the wilderness together come out with knowledge of the other that often either strengthens their relationship or severely hurts it.
After my own mother died, my father later told me that he never heard from many of his so-called "good friends." Death is not an infectious disease. One doesn't die because one is near a grieving person. Death is a finality of all finalities. Acknowledge it, and if you can, acknowledge it with some personal remembrance. It matters.
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To your dad—- Don’t imagine the “good friends” don’t care. In my experience, it is a very rare man, and treasured man, who on his own puts pen to paper following a death. Especially so among older men. Allow that they just have that disability. The hurt is still there. I know. But may they again be good friends.
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Such a beautiful reminder.
Your work is a gift to NY Times readers.
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The loss of a loved one is deeply traumatic.
The smallest gesture of heartfelt compassion, kindness or a silent hug speak incredibly loudly about our shared suffering.
We are all the souls we've ever touched.
A delightful column by a delightful person.
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My stepfather died on June 11, 1996, after a long illness in his bed and at home, where my mother and a nurse looked after him. Earlier, before reading this eloquent and moving tribute of Ms. Renkl to her mother, my thoughts were with him, and it is only now that I realize he was blind when we reunited for the last time. 'He was sorry that you have gone', wrote my mother, and I remember the farewell kiss given, while he was asleep.
These were the dark years where my parent went into a different reality, and eventually into a home; one that she believed was a small hotel in the heart of Paris, and I kept a diary of our daily exchanges.
'She is dying now', our family friend at Versailles wrote, and I kept looking for solace at a small statue of Infant Christ gifted by an Irish friend, on return from a humanitarian mission in the Philippines. The death anniversary of my stepfather in June was approaching, and the call came in that she had expired on the same day in 2012 - sixteen years later.
I told no one at first; not even her son, known as the child of the first bed. A colleague came to visit at noon to rest, before going to the office after her mission to the Sudan. We spoke of many things, and then I remembered her sister in Ghana, a school teacher, who was ill. She drew herself up, and towering over me, we held on tight to each other with no words.
It was grief shared and I will always remember that she was there. Flowers and tenderness for the Bereft.
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Professor Renkl has hit another home run. Thank you for publishing this essay.
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I read this wonderful piece fighting back tears. My mom had dementia and when she passed I had all these physical memories that triggered thoughts that I hadnt remembered till I saw the physical items.
I kept thoughtful friends away because the scenario was uncomfortable for them. It’s terribly hard to manage your emotions and friends who mean well. Since my mothers passsing I have had to work hard to let friends express their hurt and lost. We are all a work in progress. Unfortunately death is forever and all we have are memories at the end of the day but we need to let others into our circle so we can all heal.
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I was.cleaning out my parent's house after both of them had passed. My mom had always been the sentimental one. So it was a beautiful surprise when I found in one of my father's drawers a few of the cards they received when I was born. I still have all of the sympathy cards from when he died.
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My sibs and I do not live in the same city in which we grew up, but where are parents are now buried. I remember being shocked to see the people who came to my Mom's funeral with whom I had had no contact in years: children of my Mom's friends who were our contemporaries, but not necessarily our close friends. A college professor who know my brother and me. A neighbor. It was lovely. When the neighbor died within a year of my Mom, I wrote to her children to offer my condolences. I miss my parents still.
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@Anon Me, too. When my mom died 20 years ago, my heart broke. But the site of more flowers than I've ever seen short of the Rose Bowl and the overpacked funeral home brought me immense comfort.
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@anonymouse
I am happy for you. A good friend told me, when I was discussing my Mother's death with her, and telling her how much I missed her: my mother is on my shoulder and my father is in my heart. I'm sure your Mom is in one or both of these places, too.
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The most resonant bit of history which returns to me in times of loss is the story of Sir Christopher Wren. In 17th century England he lived to an age of 84 when average lifetime was often less than half that. He was interred at St. Paul’s Cathedral, a crowning masterpiece of his design. There is a small plaque there in celebration of his work which reads “Si monumentem requiris, circumspice”. To me, this phrase speaks to all who have left us changing the lives of we, the survivors. Translated from the Latin, it reads “If you require a monument, look about you”. We carry the seed biologically or culturally of our predecessors and stand in all too often silent tribute to their existence and value to us and all the human race.
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Thank you Ms. Renkl for another beautifully moving piece of writing. I was particularly struck by your words about people’s tributes being a sign to you that your mother’s life was truly valuable and meaningful - that “your own memories were not the only ones keeping her in the world.”
I also want to mention another special quality of your writing - the way your word resonate with so many people and elicit such eloquent stories in your readers comments. I always read through them; many of last week’s were unforgettable. That is a special talent indeed.
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Having lost my dad when I was 30 and my mom when I was 58, I know the comfort it brought me to hear from so many people after they died. Not only to help me process the grief but to bring forth another facet of my parents life. I was fortunate enough to get all the typed letters my mom wrote to her parents back in the 60's and 70's. This has helped too if only to remind me of the great life my Mom had prior to a stroke and dementia.
The power of the written word is invaluable.
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For those who have been lucky enough never to have suffered devastating loss, this should be required reading. The smallest gesture—an email expressing condolence for a loss—is a gift for those who suffer. Written words are a permanent, tangible reminder of those we love and they sustain us
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I watched my mother finding great comfort in every condolence letter she received after my father died. It's reason I write them today when It is necessary. I'm not always sure what to say exactly, but I know I do my best and hope it helps, even if just for a moment.
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This is a very important article.
Both my parents died at 92 and 96 within the last seven months. Their aging process was hardly an easy experience for them, there was suffering, and so it was with very mixed and painful emotions that my sisters and I witnessed their voyage out. So condolence messages in whatever form are very reassuring, very grounding, a reality check. People who show up for services - even if they had no relationship with the dead except through you - feel like angels, particularly when the dead have lived so long that their contemporaries have all passed before them. I so appreciated every card and message I have received. It's a tangible bit of comfort when the world seems turned on its head.
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@sovtknitter
I'm very sorry you lost both your parents. It's strange that even 100 years isn't long enough. No matter what quality of life eventually developed, their lives always had meaning and value. there is no replacing the relationship you have with a mother or father, but I hope you find new unexpected connections and relationships filled with love.
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How true. Death is inevitable. And, unless we are willing to accept it as the only way to end our individual lives while perpetuating our species, the creation of gods to hope to transcend death has been an ongoing preoccupation of ours. And yet, if we could really live in the 'here and now', and enjoy ourselves in the process, the future ought not be a problem...and death just an accident of Nature.
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I will always remember the friends who showed up or sent condolence cards when each of my parents passed away.
It meant so much to me at the time...and still does many years later.
Thanks for writing this.
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In an ideal world, a condolence letter would be just that: a personal, handwritten signed letter.
From experience, though, I can state, that a condolence email can also work.
One of the best op-eds-essays I have read anyplace for a very long time.
Well done and very moving Ms. Renkl.
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I nursed my mother for the last years of her life. She died peacefully at 101.
. . . . friends revealed their compassion, love and tenderness sharing their consolation . .
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