What to Do

One of the amazing things I learned through this loss was what it means to carry someone else's burden. When someone else stood or sat before me and cried over the death of my child, it literally lifted a piece of my grief from me. How that happened I don't understand, but it happened and I could feel it. Oh, how it moved me to see someone else shed tears for my son. Somehow I was able to breathe a little easier and the heavy darkness that surrounded me seemed to lift just a bit. Please don't think your tears will upset the one who is grieving. I felt honored that someone cared that much. When people didn't cry, it made me wonder if Jacob meant anything to them. I know some people just don't cry in public, but to see someone who was willing to let down their guard for the loss of my child meant more than words can say. No one was doing me any favors by "holding it together" in my presence. Just to see someone's eyes tear up touched me deeply.

I can't even begin to tell you how in awe my daughter, husband and I were when we returned to our home the day after Jacob's accident to see cars lined up and down the road. People filled our home who just wanted to hug us and tell us they loved Jacob. To see my son's favorite elementary school teacher standing in my kitchen just about knocked me to the floor. These people not only brought words of love, but food and drinks and offers to help in any way they could. My dear friend who had the gift of organization and administration began taking people up on their offers. She coordinated efforts of all sorts, including having our cars washed and detailed for the funeral. Several large coolers of iced drinks were brought in. Someone even came to the house to pick up our trash because it was overflowing after a few days. Hotel rooms and homes were arranged and donated in order to house dozens of family members who would be arriving from out of town. Food was coming in left and right, and a neighbor offered her extra refrigerator to store the overflow. A path was worn between our two homes. Believe it or not, one of our dogs was even taken to be groomed during all of this. Friends mopped my floors and washed dishes. They took our dogs out and fed them. Nothing was left undone.

My husband and I didn't have to answer our phone for days because someone was always at the phone taking messages and putting through only the most important calls. I have a notebook that lists all the different people who called and left a message of love or condolence. Another notebook lists all the flowers/plants we received and who sent them. Friends and people I hardly knew did this all. They just wanted to help.

Something that really touched our hearts were the parents/families that came by who had also lost a child. They knew our pain and they wanted to offer whatever they could to help us. One father was very honest, and I appreciated that so much. He said, "It's going to get worse before it gets better." My first thought was that he wasn't helping me feel better, but then I realized the wisdom in his words. He wanted me to know that it was OK to feel worse as time went on and that I didn't have to feel good for anyone on any time schedule. How right he was! Eight months out I still have some days or moments that seem worse than any other day or moment. People we didn't even know up to that point shared with us parts of their journey, both good and bad. They knew what we were going through, and we were blessed by their presence and words of wisdom and experience.

Another very meaningful thing someone did for us in those first days was to bring blank pages of quality lined paper like you might find in a nice personal journal or diary (not just notebook paper) Each page had "Jacob Memories" printed at the top. As friends and family came by the house, they were encouraged to either fill out a page right there or take one with them to return to us later. A table was also set up in the reception area at Jacob's memorial service with these pages and a sign with basic instructions. All the pages were able to be placed in a scrapbook. My husband and I have read those pages over and over. They have brought both laughter and tears. What a sweet gift in the midst of heartache and tragedy!

My only advice about what NOT to do is this: Don't touch anything that belongs to or had anything to do with the one who died. Don't make up their bed, clean up their bathroom, or wash their clothes. Don't move pictures (except if they need to be used at the funeral/memorial service). Consult with the family before changing, cleaning or removing anything. As strange as it may sound, I wanted to have my son's dirty clothes because they smelled like him. I wanted to find strands of his hair in his hairbrush or even in his bed. I wanted to hear his voice in the message he left on our answering machine a few days earlier (which, oddly enough, I had not yet erased just in case anything ever happened to him). The shorts he wore to the beach that day were still hanging in the shower and I wanted them to be there when I got back home. Don't worry if people will be coming into the family's home and you think they might want things clean and tidy. The reminders of the family member who has died are far more important than cleanliness.

I am grateful for EVERYTHING my friends and family did for us, even if they did things I wouldn't have asked them to do. I knew they did it all out of love. Their kindness was so meaningful.

If anything written here has hit you in the wrong way, please know that all I can do is tell you about my experience and how I felt. This is not to say everyone would feel the same things I did, nor that they should. Some things are pretty universal, but our individual responses to death are unique to each of us.