So much is written these days about loss. Losing loved ones is hard and adjusting afterward may be the biggest challenge.
Three years out of four, 2006-2010, I lost my mother, my beloved mother-in-law and an adored aunt who was a great friend. All in the month of November. Each time as the end drew near, I had friends and family by my side.
After a death, everyone comes for the funeral and to the house afterward with food and words of comfort. People cry with you, hold your hand and share memories. That is as it should be. But the support often ends there...while your real adjustment hasn't even begun.
The loneliest part of losing loved ones occurs afterward, when you miss them everyday.
Although it has been more than five years since my mother died, walking in the park in the fall, I have to stop myself from bending down to gather colorful leaves to send to her. I sent the leaves in weekly letters through her last fall days in Florida.
I was very close to my mother-in-law, closer than to my mother. I trusted her and loved her. If I needed something for the children, all I had to do was ask and Ruth's reply was, "what size, what color?" Not long after a package would arrive from Eddie Bauer or Land's End. No one enjoyed stories about our children more than Ruth did or visiting an exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art with us.
Every week, I pass the place my aunt, Nan, and I would go for lunch after the movies. I always think about her and our fun times. She'd have loved my books but she didn't live long enough to read them.
Then there are the holidays, your children's milestones, like high school graduation, college acceptance, the school play, a piano or dance recital that your loved one is not there to share.
Get to the point, Jean! If you have a friend who lost a loved one, don't forget him or her. Months or even years after the loss, it helps to have coffee with a friend who says, "Hey, bet you still miss your mom," and then happily sits and listens to a story or two. It's those days when your ear will be extra valuable. Call a friend. Share a coffee. Mourning is an ongoing process.
Three years out of four, 2006-2010, I lost my mother, my beloved mother-in-law and an adored aunt who was a great friend. All in the month of November. Each time as the end drew near, I had friends and family by my side.
After a death, everyone comes for the funeral and to the house afterward with food and words of comfort. People cry with you, hold your hand and share memories. That is as it should be. But the support often ends there...while your real adjustment hasn't even begun.
The loneliest part of losing loved ones occurs afterward, when you miss them everyday.
Although it has been more than five years since my mother died, walking in the park in the fall, I have to stop myself from bending down to gather colorful leaves to send to her. I sent the leaves in weekly letters through her last fall days in Florida.
I was very close to my mother-in-law, closer than to my mother. I trusted her and loved her. If I needed something for the children, all I had to do was ask and Ruth's reply was, "what size, what color?" Not long after a package would arrive from Eddie Bauer or Land's End. No one enjoyed stories about our children more than Ruth did or visiting an exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art with us.
Every week, I pass the place my aunt, Nan, and I would go for lunch after the movies. I always think about her and our fun times. She'd have loved my books but she didn't live long enough to read them.
Then there are the holidays, your children's milestones, like high school graduation, college acceptance, the school play, a piano or dance recital that your loved one is not there to share.
Get to the point, Jean! If you have a friend who lost a loved one, don't forget him or her. Months or even years after the loss, it helps to have coffee with a friend who says, "Hey, bet you still miss your mom," and then happily sits and listens to a story or two. It's those days when your ear will be extra valuable. Call a friend. Share a coffee. Mourning is an ongoing process.
