Here come bad news, talking this and that

People, especially people who care about you, always come with the best of intentions. People want to help, they want to make you feel better when you're sick or sad or lonely. And usually that's great. It's awesome to have people around you to help you out, lift you up, or make you smile. But there are times when trying to make someone feel better is the worst thing you could possibly do. I'm going to save you embarrassment and our being annoyed at you by giving you "THE RULES OF TALKING TO MY MOTHER RIGHT NOW." They're down below. Following those I'm going to give you "THE RULES OF TALKING TO US AFTER."

This is a slight deviation from the story, although it will still contain parts of the story. Things you need to know, like the text my mom sent from the hospital early on. "The gentleman in the room next to me passed away today. There were so many things going on at the time that the only nurse available was a student nurse. This poor girl had to be with him while he died, record the time, and then tell the family. I found her in the hallway crying, so I brought her into my room. I gave her some Kleenex and sat and talked with her for a while until she felt better. I am so blessed to be here at the right time to help her."

Or this story she told me today. "[My dad and my mom] go to the cafeteria every morning for breakfast. Mike drapes towels over each of us so it won't matter if we spill. We always try to sit by the shy people and talk to them so they won't feel so lonely; [another patient] just sits there and giggles like she can't believe we're taking time to talk to her."

I could spend the rest of this blog post talking about my mom, an amazing person and friend and how people congregate around her because she makes them feel good. Every time. I could talk about dealing with grief and how hard this is to contemplate my life without her. But I'm not. Instead, I'm going to address the rest of my blog to everyone in the whole world who has ever had to interact with someone who is trying to deal with a loss, and especially in this case, someone who's loss is their own life.

Here it goes. RULES FOR TALKING TO MY MOTHER. Number one: If you must say something, stick to talking about normal things. Tell funny stories, talk about how your life is going, let her lead the conversation. If she wants to talk about her illness or her future, that's up to her. It's her life, it's her illness, she knows you love her because you're there. The only thing that really makes her sad is seeing how sad other people are about this. She's amazing. She has come to terms. Her big weight is leaving us behind.

Yesterday I was talking to a very dear friend who had recently lost his mother. His counsel resonated with me in the way things I hold to be true echo in my heart. He said we need to be joyous for her, not make her burden greater by sharing our pain. There will be a time for that. Right now she is graduating and we have the chance to celebrate with her. If you need to cry, and you can absolutely cry, you can pull one of us aside and we can cry together. But if you give yourself the chance you'll feel her peace and her love and her personality envelop you, and you can borrow that for a while.

Number two: don't talk about this blog. She's uncomfortable being the center of attention, and always has been. I asked her permission before starting this and she said yes, but knowing that you are out there reading about her makes her uncomfortable. And if you have ever loved me even a little please do not tell her that I post pictures with this.


RULES FOR TALKING TO US AFTER- After she passes on, whether that's soon or a long time from now. If you absolutely have to say something or your head is going to explode, I will give you two things that you may say if you mean them. Number one, "I'm here if you want to talk." That's it. Don't add anything. This tells the sufferer that they aren't alone, and it also gives them something they are sorely lacking. Any kind of control. That's why the word "want" is important, not "need." But you can't say it if you aren't serious about it.

Number two is even harder. It can feel awkward or out of place. But you can talk about the person who's gone ahead. You can share your favorite story, especially if it's funny. Talk about how you met. Talk about your favorite thing about them. It feels so taboo, but it shouldn't. It serves several purposes. It reminds the person to whom you are speaking that they aren't alone in their grief. Misery loves company, but not because misery is a sadistic jerk. Because people who are hurting can have that pain validated by others who are also in pain. And it gives them permission to also talk about it.

Right now my mom is here, but the impression I keep getting is the same as the third one I had in the temple back in the beginning of December. He NEEDS her. And He needs her now. The neuro-surgeon told me when I asked that if we hadn't done the surgery she would already be gone. This time we have now with her is extra, it's a special gift we are being given so that we have time to prepare, to love, to rejoice, and to wrap our minds around the idea of her not being around. My husband compared it to going on a mission- it's hard to let a loved one go away, knowing that you won't see them for a long time and they'll be far away. But that isn't a reason to keep them from going on their mission. Right now she's received her call but hasn't left.

So please help us focus on the joy of having her now, because the pain is coming but it doesn't have to be here yet. And as my mom has said to me more than once, "Everything will turn out okay in the end, and if it's not okay, it's not the end."