Empathy can be difficult to master. I believe it's in our nature to want to fix the situation and make our friends and family feel better. Unfortunately, everything doesn't have a quick fix, or even a solution. There is not an answer to every circumstance. SIDS is an example to that since we don't know what causes it, and while we can do a list of things to reduce the risks, there is no way to completely prevent it from happening. Such a scary notion.
I've read several articles on what not to say to a bereaved parent, or "say this instead of that". I've actually wanted to create such a post myself, but I just haven't had the right inspiration to make it unique. I don't want to just repeat what's been said one hundred times over. I want to make it attention grabbing, more relatable.
I believe empathy comes in a lot of shapes. One of the greatest ones is just a listening ear. Even better? A great big hug followed with "how are you, really?" and being open to a conversation being filled with emotions. Layers of it. Some of the most comforting words I've heard were "I'm so sorry" followed by a meaningful long hug.
Empathy can also come in the shape of sharing the memory of the person that was lost, or asking to hear about him or her. Again, none of these conversations are easy. And they might end up being difficult to listen to. If you are up for it though, it's something that can be so meaningful. Many people are afraid to mention the loss in fears of "opening up old wounds". These wounds never heal, and trust me when I say that our children are on the forefront of our minds every day. Whether they are with us or not. Mentioning their name, will never make us more sad. If anything, it makes us happy and proud that they were remembered.
I think a helping hand is also a form of empathy. It's instinctual to want to do something. Ironically, I, myself, found it difficult to comfort others at Preston's memorial, or whenever someone would mention how sorry they were for me. I needed to comfort them, even though, I was needing it more than them. I wanted to do "something", yet felt powerless. I imagine that's how most people felt toward me.
"I wish I could do something."
People offered to make meals for us. Others gave us gift cards for groceries, and dining out. It was so incredibly sweet, and thoughtful though unnecessary. To give people an outlet, we asked that, in lieu of flowers, they make donations to the Children's Hospital Colorado. At the time, we didn't know that SIDS was the reason our baby had passed away. We knew a little boy who'd been helped by the Children's Hospital, and it felt like the right thing to do. I think that helped a lot of people, and it did bring us a level of comfort too. Knowing that this money would be used to help children in need of medical assistance.
That being said, showing the right amount of empathy, and the right kind of empathy is difficult. We all want to help and say the right thing, but in the moment, we often don't realize what might be the appropriate words or actions. My only suggestion can be this. Don't rush it, and risk saying something that would be construed as insensitive like "he/she's in a better place", "at least you have other kids", "at least you didn't have time to get attached". Take your time, and if nothing seems right, then just go with a strong hug and "I'm so sorry". And when the time feels right, and you think you can listen, ask about how your friend is doing. Or ask for them to tell you about who they lost. Or just hold them if they need to cry. Cry with them even. Who knows, the empathy you feel might just be something you need too.
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