It had only been a few months since my son died. I was sitting at a couple’s retreat at our church, speaking with a woman who I was sure would understand my plight. After all, she had lost a child and a grandchild. She would know just how frustrated I was with my husband. I explained to her, “He just won’t talk about it at all!” I added in anger, “It’s so hard and I need him to talk to me!”
She reached across the table and gently rubbed my arm. “Honey,” she softly whispered, “just what do you expect him to say?”
Those nine words did more for my marriage than months of counseling could have done. A veil had been lifted from my eyes. I realized at that moment that I had been expecting my husband to "rescue" me from my pain. I hadn’t understood that he wasn’t equipped to say or do anything to help me recover. It was up to me.
Intense grief can be devastating to a family. Couples who experience the loss of a child have increased divorce rates. Children who’ve lost siblings or other close loved ones can feel lost for years. What can we do to overcome the pain and prevent the unraveling of the fabric of our families?
First, we must understand that the other members of our families have suffered the same loss as we have. If it’s a spouse, he or she has been slammed to the ground just as hard as we have. In our case, my husband and I felt very separated by our loss. We were lonely and frightened. Intimacy made us feel guilty. All of our common goals and aspirations had died with our young son, leaving us with a sense of disconnectedness from each other and from the world. Although we tried not to blame each other, we both felt responsible. And as parents, we considered ourselves failures because we were unable to save our son.
As my husband and I began to understand that we needed to stand side-by-side—and not lean on one another—we were better able to cope with our loss. We worked to keep our relationship strong, but turned to other sources of strength to support us during the most difficult times. For me, it was attending a bereavement group and diving into activities to keep my mind busy and focused. For my husband, it was speaking to his parents, spending quiet times remembering, and holding onto our son's treasured items.
In the case of a child, he or she has most likely been pushed into the background in the chaos of what has happened. Because of our own struggles, we had to work harder to be active parents to our daughter. She was at a vulnerable age of thirteen, and we tried to remain conscious of her pain.
Second, we need to let each member of our family grieve in his or her own way. I didn’t understand my husband way of grieving…and he didn’t understand mine. As a family we learned to give ourselves the freedom to walk our own paths. We were constantly aware of each other, but each moving forward alone in our individual struggles. “Just what do you expect him to say?” was my daily reminder that my spouse needed to nurse his own wounds and I mine.
Third, we must call in the professionals when necessary. Knowing that we might not be at our best as parents, I insisted that my daughter attend private counseling sessions. Her counselor was able to help all of us as she held our daughter’s hand and helped her through her grief. Although she was extremely resistant to see a counselor at the time, our daughter thanks us now for forcing her to go. Having an unbiased listener, being able to share her feelings both through dialogue and journaling, and being given some understanding of what was happening to her - these all helped her to emerge from the darkness and grow into a productive and happy young adult.
Perhaps sharing these eight words, "Just what do you expect him to say" can help a family survive the devastation a death wreaks on each member. Tenderness, understanding, and patience with one other allows us to move forward and, eventually, to heal. In this way, our families, though forever changed, can avoid the ruin that too often follows a tragic loss. Our families can survive to weave a new future together.
