The younger of my husband’s two daughters died a few years before I met him. The loss shattered the family. When I asked him about grief counseling, he said he briefly attended meetings for parents who had lost a child. However, he left the group when the parents related how their children died. Their descriptions unintentionally grew into a “can you top this?” competition. So deep was each one’s personal anguish that they had little to no sympathy with which to comfort one another. Grief is painful, regardless of the circumstances. The death of a spouse, death of a parent, death of a child, death of a sibling, death of a friend, death of a marriage, even death of a beloved pet – each brings its own magnitude of bereavement.
I tried, without success, to choke back my tears when I told my physical therapist that my husband had unexpectedly passed away. She understood my pain. An auto accident had claimed her husband’s life several years ago. Our situations were similar in that we both lost our husbands, but they also had their differences: She identified her husband’s body from the wreckage. My husband died in my arms. Instead of comparing her loss to mine, she grasped my shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and said, “You’re going to be okay.” I desperately needed to hear those words.
To weigh one person’s loss against another’s doesn’t diminish the grief, but stabs another dagger into an already broken heart. We can offer our compassion, love, and sympathy; even months or years later, when we recognize that each loss has it’s own depth of sorrow.
(A widowed friend sent the quote to me in a text message when I lost my husband. I wish to give credit to the author, but couldn't find the source.)
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