tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266009681076554415.post6423317752829119305..comments2023-09-05T20:54:42.242-04:00Comments on A Latter-day Voice: How do we mourn with those that mourn?Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11294214866282354575noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266009681076554415.post-91916128864602803092010-03-04T08:25:21.200-05:002010-03-04T08:25:21.200-05:00CJ,
Thanks for this comment. I especially liked ...CJ,<br /><br />Thanks for this comment. I especially liked #5. You're right: we don't know one another's timetables. Sometimes we don't even know our own!<br /><br />Sounds like you carried your share of burdens in your HS years. Sorry for that.Paulhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11294214866282354575noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266009681076554415.post-57302637391669522032010-03-04T07:10:42.789-05:002010-03-04T07:10:42.789-05:00I can offer some advice about what not to do, whic...I can offer some advice about what not to do, which, I think, given the timing of my experiences, is probably best suited to teenagers:<br /><br />1. Don't ambulance chase. When I was 15, my mom was in a coma for awhile (she's since recovered and is living normally, albeit with care). All of a sudden, kids I'd never really been friends with in school, kids who'd tormented me, were my "best friends". They were just "so upset" that I was going through this horrible experience. I became, for a select segment of the school's population, an excuse--people couldn't hand in papers on time, or whatever, because they were just so traumatized for me, and so busy helping me. Would that that had been true. I think, particularly for kids, it's tough to connect someone else's experience with your own; kids can be a little voyeuristic, if for no other reason than that experiencing something through someone else's eyes--however disingenuously--can be a way to experience it safely.<br /><br />2. Don't tell me what you'd do in my situation. After my dad died (I was 18), I got a flood of sympathy notes, cards, and letters. Most were genuinely nice; I still have a box of them in my closet to this day, although I haven't looked at it in years. However, one girl sent me a five page letter describing how happy she'd be if her dad would only die, and how she'd throw a huge party. I couldn't believe it.<br /><br />3. Don't worry that you're not close enough to someone to reach out. While my mom was sick, this one girl I went to school with, who was really my nemesis for four years, took me home with her for the afternoon after school one day; we studied together, she baked me cookies, we talked about what was going on. While my mom was sick, she was really nice to me. Despite the fact that, once my mom was better again, she pretty much went back to being my nemesis, I still remember her as one of the best friends I had in high school.<br /><br />4. Pay it forward. I had the opportunity, a few years later, in law school, to repay this kindness when a classmate's aunt (who in her case had been a primary parent) was dying of breast cancer. I took her into our home, cooked for her, helped her with laundry, etc. It didn't make us become best friends, but she told me that, later, she'd really appreciated it.<br /><br />5. Don't judge how long it takes for people to get over things. My dad died awhile ago now, but every time a major life milestone rolls around, I miss him. I've actually had people tell me I should be "over it" by now, and question when I was going to stop being such a baby. Don't do that. Everybody's life experience is different, and you can't know what it's like to be in someone else's shoes.C.J.https://www.blogger.com/profile/08086277404490573891noreply@blogger.com