Oh the Things People Say: Praying to Forgive

At Mass this weekend, I prayed for understanding and compassion.  For two days, I stewed over a hurtful comment.  I know we've all been subjected to 'the things people say.'  What was different about these words were that they were intentional and spoken with bitterness. In more than three and a half years, this was the first time anyone has said something to me that stung.

After Kitty died, while waiting for family to gather, Mandy's oblivious sister-in-law sat across from me at the hospital, looked me in the eye and said, "I really thought she was going to be OK."  I just looked at her and thought that was really stupid.  Kitty had been underwater for at least 20 minutes.  She was attached to machines that kept her alive for more than two days.  I wondered how she could possibly think that Kitty was going "to be OK".  Nothing less than brain damage was expected.  But then, this sister-in-law had only visited the PICU once and spent - at most - five minutes actually sitting with Kitty.  I chalked her statement up to a lack of awareness.

There was a friend who once told me not to be sad because Kitty "wouldn't want a sad grandma".  I beg to differ.  It's good to be sad because it means I loved my granddaughter immensely.  Without love there would be no sorrow.  I know this piece of advice was intended to make me feel better, so I chalk the advice up to a lack of understanding.

At Kitty's visitation there were two discomforting conversations - I haven't decided if they were insensitive, awkward or just weird.  Both definitely stuck in my memory.  Why do we remember these unthinking, strange moments when so many other people had such kind expressions of sympathy?  The first was with an old and very close friend of mine.  She greeted me by loudly yelling, 'How could he do that? ... What was he thinking?'  I had no answers to those questions and I wondered why she would put me in this embarrassing situation at the funeral home full of visitors.  The second was a mother-daughter pair who rambled on about school, work and community festivals ... like nothing had happened.  I know I blocked out 95% of what they said.  I had no interest in anything they talked about.  The first interaction could be chalked up to being emotionally charged, the other to being uncomfortable and not knowing what to say.

One of my favorite stories came from a woman whose husband had recently died.  Someone told her that she should get a dog.  Through her tears, she laughed over all of the things people were telling her that she should do, in particular, this one.  She never had a dog, she wasn't fond of dogs and she certainly didn't want the responsibility of caring for a puppy at her advanced age!  Most of all, a dog wasn't going to replace her spouse.  Yet, she saw the humor and realized that the suggestion was given as an idea to help her.

I truly believe that most of the time insensitive comments are unintentional.  They are meant to help us find ways to feel better and to console.  What I experienced on Thursday night at a session of my grief coalition was neither helpful nor amusing. 

With a participant sitting within earshot, I was asked about Kitty's death by another of our group's volunteers.  I thought that everyone involved with the program already knew about Kitty - especially since Mandy and son-in-law spoke during the 2015 fall series.  So, I was surprised when this woman asked.  I gave a brief answer, but no, that wasn't enough for her.  'Are they still married?  'What happened to him?'  I replied yes to the first question and to the second that his drivers' license was revoked for 10 years, among many other conditions of probation. 

Then out it came ... honest, blunt, reactionary .

"Well, good.  I'm glad he lost his license for 10 years.  My son was killed by a drunk diver and nothing happened.  It's good they're cracking down on them."  The words were tinged with the pleasure of her getting a bit of revenge.  There was no compassion for my loss or for the struggles we face as a family because of son-in-law's sentence.  I'm fairly sure my face reacted, even though verbally I didn't.

The lovely woman sitting at the table by us very kindly said,  'It doesn't matter whether or not about his license.  He has to live every day with what he did,  I have a lot of empathy for him'.  I thanked her.

I'll admit that I have often imagined being on the other side - of how I would feel if Kitty's death was caused by a drunk driver other than her father.  I'm pretty sure I would also feel differently.  I only hope that I would be more compassionate and understanding in my reactions and expression to others and that I would try to be forgiving and respectful.

Mandy and son-in-law have been the target of many cruel and hateful comments in person, through the mail and on social media.  But this was my first zinger.  It could have been worse.  I know that this was a mild one.  The most upsetting thing about the remark was where I heard it.  I thought that my grief support group was a safe place where we all care for one another with no judgment.  We are supposed to be compassionate, caring listeners.  My safe haven got a crack in it's foundation and it bothers me - a lot!

So, I went to church this week, looking for understanding of this woman who deeply mourns the death of her son and I prayed for her.  I gave thanks for the attendee sitting at the table on Thursday night and for her gracious response to the conversation.  And, in this jubilee year of mercy, I asked God to allow me to continue to grow in compassion for others, to stay free from all judgment and - most of all - to be able to forgive.