Genuine Empathy Speaks Volumes….

Over the past 25 years I had only stepped into a funeral home when absolutely necessary;  a handful of times. And with each funeral or visitation that I’d attended, it never got easier. My excuses “not to go”, reasoning’s, thoughts, fears and anxieties are for another post, another time. Embarrassingly enough, each time I prepared to attend a visitation or service; Ativan 0.5mg was my best friend (and yes, legally).

With the whirlwind of the weeks leading to Angela’s passing it never crossed my mind that me, being her “person”; I was going to have to take care of planning her service and settling the bill.  My mom may have mentioned it in the days leading up to her passing, but I was numb and didn’t absorb much of anything. 

When mom called me the morning after to let me know that she had given Jason, the Funeral Director, my number so we could connect to discuss things and that we had a meeting with him that afternoon, my brain became mush. I sat at my desk, in shock, for a brief moment with tears streaming down my face. This was reality. The anger and hurt that I was feeling needed to be shut down, once again, buried deeper beneath the surface; I had work to do.

♥Remember my saying in an earlier post; I bury, and didn’t forgive?♥

Fast forward a couple of hours, a phone call with Jason, an Obit draft, an Ativan and a 20 minute ride to the Funeral Home. I put on my “mask”, and dreadfully walked into our appointment with Mom in tow. Not knowing what to expect, I was pleasantly surprised with the genuinely warm welcome, the sense of calm that I felt. This wasn’t going to be so hard. We weren’t treated as “business”, the FH staff genuinely seemed to care. I reminded myself “business, as usual” for me; don’t break down.

As much of the meeting conversation was a blur, I do remember softening, and my anger not consuming me. Something clicked & my anger began to subside; I wanted to give my sister a celebration that she deserved regardless of how I felt. Was I thinking of actually forgiving someone?–not quite yet.  I remained in business mode, reviewing each item with Jason, and being the control freak that I tend to be, I knew what I wanted done for Ang and I made it clear. (not the way a grieving sister would act in my opinion) I was not about to let my guard down and allow my control to be taken away. Anger aside once again – I knew what my baby sister wanted and what she deserved, and I was going to make it happen.

√ I knew who I wanted to officiate the service, the poem that was to be read, the soloist, the song that she was to sing, the 3 speakers, the songs that were to be played & who I was assigning to head up the luncheon–I was either a Funeral Directors easiest ‘client’, or worst nightmare; but I knew what needed to be done. √

As we were wrapping up the meeting, Jason let us know that they had a Grief Counselor on staff available for families. He spoke very highly of this Grief Counselor, but I wasn’t ready to hear that. As I was hopefully smiling and thanking him instead of whipping out the uncontrolled Michelle scowl while I’m saying to myself, as a grieving sister and someone who thought she was strong enough to handle everything; “why in the hell would you think I need counseling? Do you even know what I’ve already endured?”   Although I dismissed it, hopefully with a smile, that was one mental note that I secretly made.

The week was a whirlwind, with lots to do, I didn’t have time to be angry, I didn’t have time to grieve. My mindset was about doing right by my sister & getting my job done. 

The service was beautiful & the entire FH staff was exceptional.  Every question that I asked, I received a prompt answer, things were handled efficiently, and actually being at the Funeral Home, I found oddly comforting.  I found myself subconsciously thinking that “this is how a service for a loved one is supposed to feel — comforting”. You can call me weird, but I do believe that the way a grieving family is ‘handled’ really has an effect on how a family or person will grieve. They took something ungodly painful for me, and gave me comfort; with simple words, answers to questions and genuine, empathetic smiles.

√ I may be getting judged for the above paragraph, but it certainly explains a lot of my unresolved grief & anger with my father. Although I didn’t plan his service and I was only 16; you can bet your ass that daddy’s girl wrote him a poem & took him a rose — that she wanted to place beside him in his casket.  It’s been 25 years, and I will never forget the Funeral Director that told me that I couldn’t see him and made excuses as to why it was better for me not to even see, even the lower half of his body (Really CFH?? an apparent gunshot wound to the head blows the foot off?). <<<—- that right there ladies & gents is the one thing that has added me such pain & anger with my grief for the past 25.5 years. NO CLOSURE. I didn’t have control of my fathers demise; but any professional in the business should know the long-term damage that could cause someone —-especially with the smear campaign in the media.  The way that a grieving family is handled by the FH (esp a child) says a lot about them.√

Fast forward one month, I threw myself into my work; although I more than likely stared blankly at my computer more-so than not, I golfed, I walked, and I slept. Although I secluded myself from everyone except family and a few select friends, I thought that I was doing just fine; life was grand for what I had just endured.

Then BAM, it hit me. I was going along one day as I normally would and I began thinking about Ang’s illness, how it happened, why it happened, thinking about how she felt, what caused her to allow her addiction take over. I felt as if my body had been taken over; I wasn’t thinking clearly and I was in complete understanding with how an addict feels when they want to take that pain away. I didn’t feel in control of myself, my actions & I realized that I could easily dull the pain but I may not come back. When I finally snapped out of this haze; I immediately texted Jason, the FD, to find out how to get an appt. with the Grief Counselor. I received a phone call right away, I pulled it together & we conversed, he wanted to gather info on which one of the kids the Grief Counselor would be meeting, etc.  When I told him that the appointment was for me, the other end of the line briefly went silent. I’m sure that threw him off a little; as I was “Super-sister” throughout the entire process & now I needed help. That call/text right there took a lot of courage & strength, and was the most important call/text that I’ve made in my adult life.

My path to healing & forgiveness with my “Angel” of a Grief Counselor will be in a blog very soon……

√ I feel as if I need to reiterate myself; each blog that I write is a ‘past’ feeling or experience. I will make it very clear if it is a present situation. I am doing as okay as can be expected and I’m working through this at my own speed. I am writing this blog for the simple reasons of hopefully helping someone, sharing my story to help others understand, and simply to journal my feelings in hopes to ease the grieving process for myself √