A Time to Weep… a Time to Embrace

Since my 15 year old daughter, Malki, was murdered at Sbarro, I have learned that there is no shortage of professionals, support groups and books to help us somehow live with our grief. But where is the guidance for those who must face relatives, friends, neighbours, co-workers, or students who have suffered losses? Are there words to avoid? Is there any way to give comfort?

We who are immersed in the sorrow of loss, are entreated to be “understanding and forgiving” when confronted with gaffes and insensitivity. We are reminded that our relatives and friends have good intentions yet are sometimes ill-equipped to deal with us.

But with the tally of victims over 350, hasn’t the time come to acquire the skills needed to help those who grieve?. There are words that can exacerbate another person’s pain and those that can ease it. Here are some tips from those of us who have been hurled down the road of loss from a terror attack.

When a close friend’s loved one was murdered, your presence before and at the funeral and throughout the shiva will probably be comforting. If, on the other hand, you were not very close prior to the attack, this is generally not the time to grow intimate or repair a shaky relationship.

One exception would be if you possess unique skills in this area, either as a professional, or a natural. Some mild acquaintances who practically moved into my house during the shiva buttressed me with just the warmth and solicitude I needed then.

If you do spend long hours with mourners remember that acute grief presents a wide range of behaviour. While some of it may strike you as patently pathological it is probably a normal symptom of grief and may even surface during that confusing post-shiva period.

While it is traditional for a Jewish home to fill with visitors for the shiva, the time afterwards is amorphous. Halachah and tradition no longer dictate what to do. An important reminder the stage of acute grief has not yet ended for most, particularly bereaved parents. And even those who have returned to previous routines and appear to have “recovered” are still overwhelmed with pain . They have begun what psychologist, Barbara D. Rosof refers to as “the long, long haul of mourning”. In her book, The Worst Loss How Families Heal from the Death of a Child, she describes it as a “forced journey…through a nightmarish landscape.” What can the community do at this point?

Some mourners now crave quiet time while others desire the continued invovement of friends. In either case it is a good idea to take the first step. Don’t presume, “If they want me they’ll call.” Most bereaved, even the extroverted, now find it daunting to initiate contact.

Once you have found your presence welcome, what do you say? Do you distract with mundane matters? Or do you stick to the topic that is undoubtedly consuming their thoughts?

Once again, everyone is different. Some appreciate a brief respite from their pain while others are offended by discussions of anything unrelated. With sensitive probing you can figure it out.

And what worked on one occasion may be rebuffed on another. Our grief strikes in waves; we have better days and worse days and the swings are usually unanticipated.

But despite all this uncertainty there are a few remarks best avoided. Always. Most of the bereaved I have spoken to since my loss agree that pat explanations for what has happened do not go down well G-d plucks the nicest flowers; it’s all a punishment for the nation’s sins; the victims are better off where they are; G-d only sends tragedies to those who are strong enough to bear them, are a few examples.

Likewise, the “it- could be- worse.” variety of comments At least you’ve got your other children; be thankful you’re still young enough to have more children/ to marry again; think of those who have lost even more than you have…

When we do choose to dwell on our loss most of us seek recognition of our suffering and empathy. Not answers.

Another no-no is recounting tales of miraculous survival or recovery from terror attacks and equating their ordeals with ours.

And a final observation best kept to yourself “Your loved one’s friend’s have recovered admirably and are getting on with their lives.” I was actually served up that ‘comforting’ report about my Malki’s classmates, five months after her murder, my own wound still raw and oppressive.

Books about grief, understandably, don’t feature on most preferred reading lists. But their insights would enable everyone to avoid these sorts of “collateral blunders”.

The words of Judy Belsky, a Californian psychologist and author of Thread of Blue ring true for victims of terror as well After the death of her 16 year old son in a car accident she writes of her friends “They stay away and stay away, sometimes calling to say “how are you?” carefully defending against any genuine acknowledgement of my loss…They make a myth of me… ‘She will do this best by herself’…I still reel from the hurt in your silence.”

Sometimes silence is not golden.