How to Help Those Who Are Grieving. Lessons Learned.

I lost my father on May 15, 2016.  This experience has taught me so much.  Some of my friends have already lost parents and, statistically speaking, nearly all of my friends will lose at least one parent over the next 20 years. These are things I didn’t realize before losing my dad.   I feel bad, looking back to times when my friends lost parents or loved ones because I realize I did not do what I should have done and I could have been a much better friend.  I learned so much about how to be a better friend to others going through this hard time, so I wanted to share what I’ve learned. 

First, losing a parent is hard.  It is always hard.  It doesn’t matter if your parent was old and you are middle aged or older.  It doesn’t matter if they lived “a good long life.”  Yes, this is the natural order of things and, yes, we all know it will happen someday, but it is still hard when it happens.  You mourn the loss not only of the parent as he/she was at the time they died, you also mourn the loss of the parent of your childhood.  You mourn the loss of that shared history.  My father was 87 when he died and he’d been in declining health for several years.  His mind was still sound, though, and I had still enjoyed talking to him daily.  There are some factors that may make it slightly easier or harder to prepare for the death of a parent- if it was the result of a long or painful illness, for example, it may be easier to be comforted by the fact that your parent is no longer in pain or suffering.  It is still hard, though, because you don’t just mourn the loss of that parent as they were at the end.  You mourn the end of your life with them.  To a certain extent, even as an adult, you mourn the loss of your childhood.  You realize that that parent is the only person who shared many of your childhood moments and you mourn the loss of your unique relationship with them.  So, never down-play the grief someone feels when losing a parent.  No matter what the age or circumstance, it is a profound loss.  It greatly helped me when people expressed to me that they understood how hard it is to lose a parent, when they gave me permission to grieve deeply.

Second, a person who is grieving needs love and support.  I was not always good at this when friends and relatives lost loved ones.  I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want to intrude.  I sometimes felt like I wasn’t a close enough friend, so I should give them space.  I assumed their close friends and relatives would provide the support they needed.  I’ve learned, though, that you can never have too much support and love in times of grief.  If the person needs space, they can simply turn off their phone or not answer texts or e-mails.  Don’t be afraid to call, text, e-mail, bring food, etc.  Any support is appreciated and you won’t be seen as a bother.  It doesn’t matter if you are a close friend to the grieving person or just an acquaintance who cares.  It will be appreciated. 

Third, it is best to offer something specific to help someone who is grieving.  Offering to help however you can is nice, but it is better to just do something helpful or offer specific help.  After my father died, I was so overwhelmed with grief and the funeral planning process that I really didn’t know what help I needed or who to ask, even though many people had offered to help me “in any way”.  I greatly appreciated the friends who just brought food or offered to watch my kids on specific days/times.  I appreciated the thoughtfulness of everyone who offered to help, but I hesitated to ask them for help unless they’d offered something specific.  I didn’t want to impose.  In times like these when the heart is working overtime and the logical mind is struggling, it is often best for friends to step in and say, “Here, I’ll take care of this for you.” 

One friend called me just as I was needing help and it was so fortuitous that I think it had to be my Dad reaching down from Heaven to offer me some help.  I was at the mall trying to find something for the kids, my mother, and myself to wear to the funeral.  Let me just say that, while I normally kind of enjoy shopping, the mall is not really the place you want to be when you’re grieving and already overwhelmed by funeral planning.  I found myself wandering aimlessly through department stores looking at all clothes that were black or gray.   I felt flustered and confused.  I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since a light breakfast that morning and it was 4PM.  Just then, my phone rang and my friend called.  She told me she was free that evening and asked what she could do to help me.  I told her my situation and she came to meet me at the mall.  She helped me to stay focused and accomplish what I needed to do and ate a quick dinner with me so I didn’t pass out from hunger.  Sometimes just calling to say “I’m free now, what do you need?” is great.

Other friends brought food to the visitation, babysat my kids, or brought meals for my family.  This was all so appreciated.  Before this experience, I was always one who said “let me know if I can do anything” to people who were grieving.  I never quite knew what to do and no one ever took me up on my offer to “do anything.”   It is better to either say, “what do you need?” or “what can I do?” or to simply offer something you know you can do. 

Lastly, I learned that grief and the need for support doesn’t end when the funeral is over.  I’ve so appreciated the friends who’ve continued to check on me, who’ve sent sympathy cards, or who’ve provided support in other ways.  I think the hardest part of the grieving process is after the funeral is over and life is supposed to return to normal.  It is important to reach out to people who are grieving at that time.  You might want to also think about anniversary dates that will be difficult for the grieving person- birthdays, holidays, death anniversary date, etc.  Reach out to your friend on those dates to see how they are doing.  Just knowing that others remember and care can be very comforting. 

When someone is grieving, we often feel awkward.  It is an intimate time, a time when a person is at their most raw and vulnerable.   We are afraid of doing something wrong or somehow making things worse.  I have learned, though, that there really is nothing you can do that is wrong as long as you are providing support, caring, and offering your love. 

Eulogy For My Beloved Daddy

My father died on May 15, 2016 at 6:15PM.  My mother was on one side of him holding his hand and I was on the other side of him with my hand on his shoulder.

This is the eulogy I delivered at his funeral.  I was a bit concerned about being able to do the eulogy when I was so upset, but it was something I felt I had to do to honor his memory.  I wrote this in the few days between his death and his funeral.  I feel like God or my dad almost helped me write it because the words for this simply popped into my head at odd times when I wasn't even working on it.  One morning I woke up knowing exactly what to say in the last paragraph.  So, I can't take credit for this entirely.  I give credit to God for granting me the words to properly eulogize my father.

My father's eulogy:

Over the past few days I’ve spoken to many friends and family about my dad.  Many people shared their memories of him and told me how they felt about him.  Several words were used over and over to describe him- Kind, Loving, and Amazing.  These words certainly describe my father.

My father endured so much in his life and he did it with such grace.  I don’t think I ever heard him complain.   So many things he loved were taken from him.  As a young man, my father loved the outdoors and enjoyed spending time hiking and camping.  As a child he enjoyed playing in the woods that are now part of Bellarmine University’s campus.  He raised rabbits and pigeons in his backyard.  As a young man, he volunteered as a Scoutmaster.  He had a boat and loved to play on the river.  He had a convertible and he loved to drive.  After he lost his sight, he was unable to do any of those things.  When I was a child, Dad developed a skin condition that made him extremely sun sensitive.  He couldn’t even walk to the end of our driveway in the sun without becoming sunburned.  He seemed to have a constant sunburn.  This prevented him from spending time with me outdoors during the day even though I know he really wanted to.  Despite suffering almost constantly from itchy and painful skin, he always maintained an even temper and was a patient father.

Many people would have been discouraged by these crosses that he had to bear.  These trials may have caused others to lose their faith in God.  My father, however, never let these things stand in his way and he NEVER lost his strong Catholic faith.  My father chose to make the best of bad situations, he chose to look on the bright side, and he chose to turn to God in prayer when his burdens seemed too great.

He also had a great sense of humor and handled so many difficulties with a laugh and a smile.   When I was a kid, my friends were always a bit fascinated or perplexed by my parents’ blindness.  One particular friend used to try to peek around his glasses to see his eyes and she asked him one time if he was really blind.  Dad responded, “No, I’m a CIA agent and I’m here to check up on the FBI agent who lives next door.”  I think she believed him for a few years!

It was often hard to believe he was blind.  Rather than saying he couldn’t do something because of his blindness, he simply figured out a creative solution that would allow him to do what he wanted.  A perfect example of this is the way my father finished the basement in the house where I grew up, the house right next to this church.  He framed walls, put up paneling, hung doors, and wired lights.  He asked for help from me only to tell him the colors of the wires so he could properly wire the lights.  I certainly can’t imagine doing those types of things in total darkness!  Many carpentry tools are made for sighted people.  Well… let’s face it, really ALL carpentry tools are made for sighted people!  Instead of being discouraged by that fact, Dad made up his own tools to help him to make sure the walls were square and level.  He took pride in doing a good job, but he was never one to brag or show off what he did.  I was thinking yesterday that I don’t think I ever heard my father tell anyone about how he finished the basement unless that person specifically asked him about it.  My mother and I always liked to brag on him, but, whenever we did, he almost seemed embarrassed.  He was humble.

He was also such a kind and loving person. He was such a warm, caring, and loving husband to my mother and father to me.  He was a loving grandfather to my children.  Everyone who knew him could feel his kind and loving nature.  One of his greatest joys was when he could give back to younger generations through mentoring and teaching.  When he was in his 30’s he wasn’t sure he’d ever get married or have children of his own.  He chose to volunteer as a Scoutmaster.  He regularly took a group of Boy Scouts camping.  He told me once that it was often very difficult to find even one of the fathers to go with them on those trips and he was always surprised by that.  He told me how he served as a father figure to some of the boys in the troop whose own fathers were absent or uninvolved.

He also loved his nieces and nephews.  My cousin, Kevin, told me a few days ago how my father inspired him to study engineering.  My father showed him how he did his work as a draftsman and, after my father’s sight declined and he realized he’d no longer be able to use the tools of his trade, he passed those things on to Kevin.  He was so proud of the many accomplishments of his nieces and nephews.

My father was a great man.  I feel so blessed to have had such a wonderful, kind, loving, and inspiring father.   Planning how to memorialize him and do justice to his memory has been difficult.  The first reading that I chose for today is an unusual reading for funerals.  It is one from 1st Corinthians that is more often used at weddings.  It ends with “Faith, Hope and Love remain and the greatest of these is love.”  These are the gifts my father left for me and for all of us.  He always demonstrated strong faith and taught me to be strong in my faith.  He left me with great hope that he is now united with God and we will all see him again in Heaven.  And our love for him will always remain and I believe he is in Heaven now sending his love to all of us.  What more can any of us hope for than to pass on to Eternal Life, loved by those around us and held in the loving hand of God?

Until the Nursing Home Do Us Part

My parents are in their 80s and I recently had to move my father into a skilled nursing facility and my mother into the adjoining assisted living facility.  This was difficult for them and for me.  They have been married for almost 45 years and have never lived apart and rarely slept apart in those 45 years.  They have also come to depend on each other for many things- Mom dials the phone for Dad, Dad reminds Mom of things that she forgets, etc.  It breaks my heart that they have to be separated and can't stay in the same room.

Unfortunately, the current state of our senior care system requires my parents to live apart.  Because my father is no longer able to walk and requires someone to lift him into and out of his wheelchair, his care needs are too high for assisted living.  My mother, on the other hand, only needs assistance with remembering her medication and she likes to have someone stand by when she showers because she fears falling.  These minimal care needs do not qualify her to live in skilled nursing care.  They have long-term care insurance that covers a large portion of their expenses and it would not pay for mom to live in a level of care higher than what she needs.  Even if we were able to pay out of pocket for her to live in skilled care with Dad, she would not be allowed to live in the same room because she would not be Medicare qualified for that room and both residents must qualify!  If you're confused by this, you're starting to sense our frustration.

It seems like this system is based on antiquated views of the elderly from a time when most men died before entering nursing homes and most nursing home residents were widows.  Now that men are living much longer and many couples are aging together and entering long-term care together, I foresee that this will be a problem for more and more people.  One facility even told me they only have two rooms where couples can live together and they have a waiting list for those rooms.

We chose a facility for Mom and Dad where they had both assisted living and skilled nursing in the same building so that my parents could spend most of their days together.  Mom and Dad are both blind (This is not new, though.  See my last post for details on that.) so Mom needed someone to take her over to visit Dad.  The facility assured us that it would be no problem for them to walk Mom over to visit Dad each day.  I assumed they would only have to sleep apart and, while my parents were not happy about even that separation, it was good that they could still be together most of the day.  Unfortunately, I didn't realize that yet more regulations would conspire to make this difficult.

Soon after they moved in, we found out that Dad is not allowed to visit Mom or share meals with her on the assisted living side.  To be, even as a visitor, on the assisted living side, you must be able to "self-evacuate" from the building.  Because Dad is both blind and in a wheelchair, he cannot do that.  Because Mom is blind, she can't help him evacuate so she can't be considered his escort when he's on her side.

So, Mom started visiting Dad on his side each day.  Usually, the staff from her side would take her over around 10AM and she'd stay until about 8PM when they took her back to her room.  It wasn't ideal, but Mom and Dad adjusted and were pretty happy with the arrangement.  Of course, it seems things are rarely easy with senior care.

The next issue we faced was the staff's complaint that Mom occasionally asked for help when she was visiting on Dad's side.   Even though the skilled care and assisted living are part of the same parent company and even though they are in different halls of the same building, they are still considered to be separate facilities.  They each have their own staff and Dad's staff can't/won't do anything for Mom and Mom's staff can't/won't do anything for Dad.  Mom is considered a visitor when she's on Dad's side rather than a resident of the same facility.  Mom and Dad denied that Mom ever asked for help for herself on Dad's side, but the staff insisted otherwise.

Then one afternoon I got a call saying that Mom had fallen in Dad's bathroom.  A nurse had come to give Dad medication and she had left an open glass of water sitting on Dad's nightstand.  Mom was concerned that Dad would spill the water, so she took it upon herself to take it to the sink and throw it out.  Because she had a glass of water in one hand, she couldn't feel her way to the sink as well as usual and she tripped over the lip of Dad's shower.  After that, they started restricting Mom's visits.  They told her they needed to observe her for 72 hours, but she said their "observation" consisted of her being stuck alone in her room most of the day.  After a few days, they started taking her over to visit for longer periods of time, but they still weren't letting her stay all day as she had been doing.  They never called me to discuss this change.

My husband and I then asked for a joint meeting between us and the staff from both the skilled care and the assisted living sides.  We had unresolved billing issues and also wanted to discuss a better plan for Mom to visit Dad.  In the course of this meeting,  the social worker from the skilled side insisted that Mom could no longer visit Dad without a "sitter."  She said Mom could not even go to meals with Dad without a "sitter" present in case she had to be taken to the bathroom.  This new requirement/restriction was a huge surprise to us and a huge blow to my parents.  Caregivers are not inexpensive, so my parents now had to make a financial decision and trade-off.  They are hesitant to spend a lot of money because they have a fixed income and don't want to run out of funds.  Yet, now they had to determine how much money they could spend to be allowed to spend time together.  For a couple who has been married almost 45 years, this was very difficult.

I was, and still am, appalled by the situation in which my parents find themselves.  I am working now to find a different facility that will be more accommodating in allowing them to spend time together.  I am saddened by the lack of empathy shown by the staff, especially the social worker whose job is to advocate for the well-being of the residents.

I think much of this comes down to larger problems in our long-term care system.  There are really no facilities where spouses with differing care needs can continue to share a room.  There are very few facilities where they can even be in the same building.  There are only a few levels of long term care available:

• Independent living-  this is really no care at all but usually involves living in an apartment or patio home that is near a facility where they may go for meals or socializing and activities.  
• Assisted living- this involves some assistance such as medication reminders, bathing assistance, or escorts to and from the bathroom.  At this level residents usually live in their own rooms or apartments in a larger facility and meals are provided in a communal dining room.  The facility also provides activities for the residents.  
• Personal Care- this is very similar to assisted living, but there are nurses on staff and on duty at all times.  They are licensed to administer medication to residents.  At this level of care, they can also handle things such as wound care, diabetic blood testing, and that sort of thing.  Residents must be able to self-evacuate from a building in case of emergency at this level.  They also must be able to transfer (to and from a wheelchair) with only a one person assist.  
• Skilled Nursing Care- this is the highest level of care. 

Also, much of the staff at many facilities, even the management-level staff, dehumanizes and infantilizes the elderly.  They don't seem to respect them as human beings who have something to offer and who have a lifetime of wisdom.  In the conference we had to discuss my parents' care, the social worker talked about "toileting" them on a schedule.  It sounded like something you'd do with a dog you were housebreaking, not a human being.  My father also recently complained that he'd called a staff member in to take him to the restroom, but he was told that they couldn't take him because it was shift change.  Because of their refusal to take him to the restroom, he had an accident.  No one should be treated that way.

In case you're wondering.  I am in the process of finding a new facility for my parents.  I would love to get them out of there immediately, but I need to find another place that has two openings.  I also need to make sure that whatever new facility I choose will be better than this one.  I'd hate to move them again only to run into problems and have to move them yet again.  Each move is difficult and involves many adjustments- getting to know new staff and procedures as well as, for my mom, learning her way around new surroundings.  I am just hoping and praying that the next facility will be a pleasant and compassionate place where my parents can enjoy living.

Losing My Childhood

Yesterday my godfather, Frank, passed away.  He was 86 and had Alzheimer's so this was not unexpected.  He was a good, kind, and witty man.  He would have made a wonderful father, but he never had children of his own because his first wife, my godmother, had cancer and, shortly after they married, became unable to bear children.  She died when I was 9 and Frank remarried several years later, but they were too old to have children at that point.  He had stepchildren and he had me, his god child.

When I was very young we lived right next door to my godparents.  Since they had no children, they treated me like their own child.  Nearly all of the the photos of me as a baby were taken when I was in my godmother's arms.  I visited them frequently and have many happy memories of time spent at their home.

I am an only child.  My parents were in their 40s when I was born so they weren't able to have more children.  This (having only one child and having a child in your 40s) was rather unusual back in the 70s so most people assumed my parents were my grandparents or that I was the youngest of a family of many kids.  I don't know what the right number of children is in a family.  I think it is a very personal decision.  I do know that there are pros and cons to any number.

In many ways being an only child was good.  I had my parents undivided love and attention.  I didn't have to worry about sharing a room, toys, or my parent's affection.  My father's sister had seven children and I think my cousins were always a little jealous of me.  They thought I was lucky and probably a bit spoiled to have so many things and so much space all to myself.  I, on the other hand was always a little jealous of them.  They always had someone to play with and they seemed to have such a close relationship with each other.

Now that I'm older, there is another part of being an only child that is difficult.  I sometimes feel as if I'm losing my childhood memories.  For people with siblings, they have someone in their life who has known them for most or all of their lives.  They have others with whom they can reminisce about their younger days.  There are others who remember all of the crazy, silly, sad, or happy things that happened when they were young.  For an only child, there are very few people like that and most of them are much older.  For me, I had my cousins but, regrettably, we were not particularly close.  Other than that, I had my parents, who are now in their 80s and suffering from the beginnings of dementia and I had my godparents and a few other close family friends.  I realize that in the not-so-distant future there will be no one alive who shares my childhood memories.  This makes me somewhat sad.

I realize this isn't really that big of a deal in many ways.  This is not meant to be a pity party.  But, I am sad that I won't have anyone to whom I can say, "do you remember that time when I was 4 and...?"  There will be no one else who remembers the way I used to sing "She'll be Coming Round the Mountain" with my dad while waiting for my babysitter to pick me up in the morning or how my parents always sat up and talked quietly in the kitchen at night after putting me to bed.  Our family history will reside only with me.  I'm not the only one who has had these thoughts.  Country singer, Kathy Mattea, sang a song written by her husband, apparently an only child, called "Who's Gonna Know But Me" that talks about this exact thing.  This is just one of those things most never consider when thinking about the pros and cons of having just one child.

I'm aware that many, like my parents, may not make their own choice to have just one child.   It may be what God (or fate or circumstances, or whatever you'd like to call it) chooses for them.  Or, many do choose to have one child because that is what is right for their family.  Having just one child is not all bad by any means.  I would encourage you, though, especially if you have only one child, to document as much of his/her childhood as possible.  Take pictures and video, keep a journal.  As your child gets older, be sure to tell her stories of her childhood.  Knowing our personal history can be very helpful.  I believe it makes us feel more grounded and helps us to understand ourselves better.