What to Say

What amazed me in the aftermath of Jacob's death was the power of the spoken word and the unspoken word. Before this experience, I had no idea what to say to someone who had lost a close relative or friend. I still don't have all the answers, but I can share what helped and what hurt me.

Some of the most comforting words for me in those first days were simply, "I am so sorry." No one was responsible for Jacob's death--it was an accident--but I sensed they meant they were sorry for the pain my family was experiencing as a result of his death. To me it seemed like they were sorry that our family would never be the same again and they realized to some extent what a horrible reality that was. Other comforting words were, "I wish I could take away this pain." For me, those words acknowledged that I was hurting and seemed to suggest that the person would do anything they could to change the situation. Comfort was also gained from comments like, "I am going to miss Jacob so much. He was such a good friend and could make anyone smile." To know that someone else really loved and valued him as a friend was encouraging. Within the first few days after his death, it helped so much to hear stories of how he helped someone or did something kind. I wasn't yet ready to hear the "funny" stories, but by day four or five the funny memories helped put a smile on my face. I think the initial horror of losing a child made laughing at anything to do with Jacob somehow inappropriate or upsetting. How could anything seem funny when my child was dead? That was how I responded, but someone else might feel totally different.

The things I didn't want to hear were, "He's in a better place," or "at least he didn't suffer long." Both of those comments were totally irrelevant to me. All I wanted was for my son to be alive and with me. I wanted to be able to touch him and hug him. I also didn't want to hear how God was going to use my son's death to make me a stronger person. How in the world was my gain even close to being worth the loss? I would rather have been a jerk and my son still be alive than a saint with a son that was no longer living. What was it to me to gain anything at all when I had lost one of the most important people in my life--my precious son? Reminding me that I still had my daughter was of no comfort either. Of course I love my daughter and was grateful I hadn't lost her as well (she wasn't in the accident with Jacob), but having her did not make Jacob's death any easier. She is an entirely different person with a different personality and we have a different relationship. I wasn't going to magically "snap back" into a normal role as parent just because there was still another child who needed me.

There was no bitterness or resentment toward the people who said things that didn't settle right with me. How could they know what to say? The day before my son's death, I had no idea what I would say to the parents of Jacob's classmate who died of bone cancer. The very next day I was living their life. Our experiences were different, however. They had to watch their son die slowly. I never had the chance to say goodbye. Both situations were horrible in their own way.