Death Café – There’s a First Time for Everything

Last Tuesday evening, I co-hosted the first Death Café in Chicago. A phenomenon that began in Switzerland and spread to London, a Death Café provides a safe, non-judgmental and non-therapeutic setting for people to come together and talk about death and grief.

Our group was all men (except me, lurking on the edge). Although the seven men did talk about friends – and even animals – there happened to be an unusual situation: one man’s mother was actively dying. As befitting a supportive atmosphere, most of the conversations had to do with family dynamics and relationships.

The feelings associated with grief are common, no matter the relationship to the person who died: sadness, guilt, anger, regret, gratitude. All of them were on display Tuesday as these men came together for two hours.

The one emotion that may have surprised them all was relief. As I’ve written before, men are frequently locked into a cultural stereotype after the death of a friend or family member. They’re expected to be the ‘strong, silent type’. They’re looked to by others as leaders, in control of their emotions.

More than one tear was shed, and more than one man was surprised by how much he felt comfortable sharing, even with strangers.

As it turned out, the timing was a blessing: the one man’s mother died very early Thursday morning.

We all – co-hosts and participants – learned a lot. Plans are already being made for a second Death Café, this one for men and women. It’ll be interesting to see if and how that changes the dynamic.

One thing’s for sure: this is a conversation that will continue.

Friend Grief in 140 Characters (2 of 2)

twitter.com

“Have you ever seen a funeral procession go past and felt the urge to shout abuse? Perhaps something mild such as ‘I’ve never heard of him!’ or ‘He was rubbish!’. No, me either.

In June, Shane Richmond, Head of (Editorial) Technology for The Telegraph, called for civility on Twitter when it comes to grieving.

 We may not hear about a close friend’s death on Twitter, but if we spend any time in the Twitterverse we’ll definitely see breaking news about the death of someone in the public eye: Amy Winehouse, Gore Vidal, Adam Yauch, Nora Ephron: we probably never met them, and may not have known their work. But the news went out on Twitter for the world to see.

I’m convinced something happens to people when they feel compelled to comment on the internet. Maybe it’s temporary insanity, maybe it’s an inflated sense of self-importance. Maybe they’re unable to think before they type.

But if you read the comments on a blog or Facebook page, or follow a hashtag on Twitter, sooner or later you’ll read something that makes you think “who are these people?”

Beyond simply disseminating the news, some people feel the need to weigh in on the death of a celebrity. That’s their right.

Often, though, the comments go beyond their own feelings about the person who died. For whatever reason, they’re not sorry that person died, and they feel compelled to criticize those who do.

As Richmond says, would you go to a funeral of someone you didn’t like and criticize the mourners for grieving? Sounds unnecessarily cruel, doesn’t it? More likely you’d simply keep your mouth shut or stay away completely.

People don’t do that online. They weigh in on things that have nothing to do with them, expressing opinions that serve no purpose except to hurt someone.

Maybe you’ve done it – with no malice intended. Maybe you’ve commented on a celebrity death in a less than respectful way. Maybe you made a joke, or what you considered a joke.

Well, you know what? Stop it. Imagine if that celebrity was your best friend, and you logged onto Twitter expecting to see tributes. But instead you found hundreds of “who cares if they’re dead?” tweets.

It takes on a different meaning now, doesn’t it?

Next time you’re tempted to type a snarky comment online…stop. And think before you tweet.

Friend Grief in 140 Characters

twitter.com

The Twitterverse doesn’t miss much: political gaffes, celebrity gossip, shameless self-promotion. There are writers who swear by the discipline needed to express themselves within the 140-character limit. You want breaking news – not tape-delayed, like our Olympics coverage? Log onto Twitter.

That said, is it the best place to grieve?

I’m not talking about the incredible hospice programs, writers, therapists and other professionals who tweet information about programs to help people work through their grief.

And I’m not talking about those who tweet death notices of famous people.

I’m talking about people who run to Twitter to express their grief.

Twitter is a community, though a virtual one, like this blog. And let’s face it: it’s often easier to express our feelings online than face to face. Some people aren’t ready to deal with the world, and that’s compounded by living in a society that values the ability to “move on” quickly.

But does grieving on Twitter help anyone?

The value of grieving online is something that is attracting the interest of those who work in the bereavement field.

Most believe that the internet has been very effective in creating and building communities that focus on a particular kind of grief, like this blog. It allows people to work through their grief among those who truly understand their experience.

What I consider an invaluable use of the internet – and Twitter is a big part of this – is the ability to spread the word quickly. Instead of being faced with making dozens of phone calls to family and friends, now we can send a blast email, or post on Facebook, or tweet the news.

And in doing so, we are comforted, too, because it’s so easy for others to reach out to us. Think 140 characters is too short to make a difference? Try this:

I'm so sorry for your loss. You are all in my thoughts and prayers. I'll stop by after work to run errands for you and give you a break. <3

Actually, that’s 139 characters, but you get the idea. It doesn’t take a lot to show your support.

We’ll continue this on Thursday.

Changing Your Focus After Losing a Friend

You probably went through – or are going through – a very dark period of time after your friend died.

Maybe you felt guilt or regret or rage or just a heavy, heavy sadness.

For some people a light bulb goes off.

You can call it a wake-up call, a sign from God, a slap in the face. But sometimes it takes the death of a friend to get you moving in a different direction.

It seems to happen most when the friend is your age or younger. You see the lost potential of their life, and it makes you look at yours: potential and life.

You may have been vaguely restless before all this happened. You may have been quite content with your life.

But the death of someone your own age is often a dramatic reminder that your time here on earth is limited. No one knows how long they have.

You become irritable. Things that are important to others – and once important to you – seem trivial and useless and stupid beyond words.

More than once you’ve tried to explain to them how you feel – how unsettled, how sad, how empty – but they don’t understand.

They may tell you that you need to move on, get over it. But that just makes you madder than you were before.

You’ve been through something profound, but the people around you don’t get it.

You’re a different person, though you look and sound the same. You are different inside, changed forever for having lost your friend.

Now what?

You see things differently now.

You feel like you need to make a change, a big change, perhaps.

Where do you begin?

Little Ways to Remember Your Friend

Some of the people profiled here in Friend Grief have done big, impressive things after their friend died. Maybe they founded a charity or made big changes in their own lives.

Not everyone can do something big and expensive. Not everyone wants to. And often, it’s the little things that count.

Here are a few ideas of things you can do to remember your friend:

-Visit their grave, or have flowers sent there on a day that was special only to the two of you.

-If a memorial Facebook page was set up for them, post a comment, just to say you’re thinking about them.

-Play a song that reminds you of them.

-Go someplace you used to go together. Don’t be surprised if you half-expect to see them there.

-Do something they liked to do.

-Write to them. It may sound odd, but just write about how you’re feeling. Maybe reminisce about how you met, the funniest thing you ever did together, a trip you took. Tell them what they meant to you.                 

-Volunteer for a charity they supported.

-Make a CD of pictures of your friend. Add a soundtrack of their favorite songs. Share it with mutual friends.

-Do something in their memory. Maybe you want to challenge yourself to run a 5K race, or lose 10 pounds. Dedicate your hard work to them.

-Depending on your/their faith, plan a religious observance (Mass, prayer service) on the anniversary of their death, or their birthday.

-Become an organ donor.

-Make the time to call another friend.

-If you have a picture of the two of you that makes you happy, get a nice frame and put it in a place of honor in your home.

I believe one of the most human reactions to a person’s death is that we fear they will be forgotten. We despair that others will never know what a great friend we lost.

All of these activities – and many more – help keep a person’s memory alive. “As long as you remember him,” Doctor Who told Amy. “He’s not dead.”

So it is with our friends. They’re always with us.

How Do You Honor Your Friend?

ehow.com

For the next few posts, I’m going to look at the ways some people have honored a friend who has died.

In many ways, this blog is a way for me to honor a friend. Before she died, I promised my friend, Delle Chatman, that I’d write a book about what people go through when their friends die. She was enthusiastic and supportive, as always.

It took almost 3 years to finally get going, but later this summer, I’ll be self-publishing a small e-book, My Best Friend Died and No One Gives a Damn. The bigger book is still in progress, though it’s getting close. She’s taken over my life, changing my career path in a very unexpected way. That’s not a complaint.

Connie Ragen Green wrote last summer in EzineArticles.com about her closest childhood friend, Tory.

“We had been close friends for more than thirty years. He died suddenly the day before Christmas by choking on some food while he was alone.”

Not surprisingly, her grief continued for months, especially when considering the ‘what ifs’ that consume us when someone dies in a way that might have been prevented. She could have wallowed in that forever.

Then she realized she had hundreds of photos of him. She spent several months transferring them to CD’s, choosing background music, creating tributes. She sent the CD’s – a new one each week – to his family. Sharing the good times helped her heal.

That was a great thing to do, you’re thinking. And it was. You don’t have to be a computer whiz to do it. But she took her love for her friend a step farther:

“The year after he passed away I set up a scholarship fund in Tory’s name. He had not been a good student, so I set the academic requirements very low for the person who would apply for it. He also loved animals, so I made the scholarship for someone who was studying to work with animals as a career. I remember meeting the woman who received it the first year. She wanted to be a veterinary assistant, and this money was going to help her to finish school and go on to this career. I told her a little about why I had set up the scholarship and wished her well with her studies.”

Not everyone has the financial resources to do that, but I liked that she tailored the scholarship to someone like her friend: a normal guy who liked animals.

In the midst of grief, it’s often difficult to think of good ideas for honoring our friends. I hope this post and the next few will give you some ideas. Feel free to share yours, too.

"Tell Me About Your Friend"

stecchinonyc.com

This is something I shared when I first started this blog early last year. The conference is long over, and we've made a triumphant return visit to Stecchino's since then. But the advice remains solid, especially when it comes to men grieving their friends:


We were having dinner at Stecchino’s on 9^th Avenue in New York, a lively group of eight who were attending the Writer’s Digest Conference. With the agent Pitch Slam behind us, the tension of the past two days was finally wearing off, aided by wine, laughter and crab cakes.

I don’t remember what we were talking about. But suddenly George turned to me and said very matter-of-factly, “my best friend died at 29. It changed my life.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. George and I had already talked at length about my book, and his enthusiasm was contagious. But this was the first personal comment he’d made on the subject.

I’ve interviewed a number of men for my book, with more to talk with in the coming weeks. When I first started, I assumed that it would be like pulling teeth to get men to talk in any detail about friends who had died. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The first man I interviewed actually asked to talk to me, when a friend told him about sharing her story. We met in his favorite bar, which turned out to be the place he and his friend had spent a lot of their free time.

I pulled out my list of questions – about 30 – hoping that the answers would take more than 15 minutes. Ninety minutes later, we were still on question #3, although his story had covered most of the rest of the list.

Conventional wisdom dictates that women’s friendships are more important than men’s; that women are more willing to talk about their feelings. I was certainly guilty of believing that. But the willingness of men to bare their souls about their friends has been a revelation to me.

Everyone who has experienced the death of a friend has a story to tell, of the joy of knowing that friend and the pain of losing them. Don’t assume that men don’t want to share it with you. All you have to do is ask:

“Tell me about your friend.”

What Do You Grieve When You Grieve Your Friend?

Serenading people on line in Central Park

That was not a stupid question.

The simplest, most basic answer is that you grieve that they are physically gone from this world. Whether you believe in heaven or reincarnation or another consciousness after death, you still mourn their loss.

But what else do you grieve?

Maybe you found out about their death much later, so you missed the funeral.

Maybe you two weren’t speaking, and so were never able to settle your differences and part one last time as friends.

Maybe you didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.

Maybe you never told them you loved them.

Maybe you were too embarrassed to tell them how they changed your life.

Maybe you didn’t get a chance to help them when they were dying.

You might call these regrets. You might be consumed by the ‘what if’s’.

I wrote last summer about the stark differences in the musical tributes Paul McCartney offered in his concert. One, full of affection for George Harrison, proved that they’d been able to express their love and appreciation for their long friendship. The other, full of regret, left you with the pain he felt at not expressing his feelings to John Lennon.

You can’t change what happened between you and the friend who died. But you can affect the friendships you still have. It might scare them – and you – but take a moment to tell them how much you appreciate them.

The night before his heart surgery, a friend told me I was on the short list of people to call if something “went bad”. We’d had a long, very complicated, difficult (at times) relationship, but we’ve been on good terms for years now, and I fell apart on the phone.

He was surprised by my reaction. “Why are you upset? I knew you’d be more pissed off if you weren’t on the list.” That was true, and we both laughed about it. But for the first time in decades, when we hung up the phone that night, I told him I loved him. After a moment, and with a catch in his voice, he told me he loved me, too.

You don’t have to write a long letter, or pour out your heart. Just a quick “God, you’re annoying, but I love you anyway” or “I don’t know what I’d do without you” is probably enough, and more than they’ll expect. You won’t scare anyone that way.

So this weekend, give it a shot. The first one will probably be the hardest, but after that, you’ll get the hang of it.

Which song would you prefer?

Are “Virtual” Friends Worth Grieving?

Do you know your relatives?

I don’t mean the ones you’re in close contact with, like immediate family. I mean all of the people you know you’re related to, even the ones you only see at weddings and funerals: the ones whose opening line is always “you don’t remember me, do you?”

You probably do, even if you haven’t seen them face to face in decades.

Same with friends: some you see or talk to every day, others you only see every 10 years at class reunions.

My point is that you’ve seen them, met them face-to-face. That’s how you became friends in the first place.

But our lives are different now. We have “virtual” friends, people who may live on the other side of the world: people we “know” only because we text and tweet and chat and share and post and Skype.

So, what do you do when one of them dies?

In the past year I’ve met some of the people I’d only known online. Sometimes I was surprised (honestly, I thought he was taller). Sometimes they picked me out of a crowd. But in every case, the personality I grew to know online was the same as their real personality. I haven’t been disappointed, at least not yet.

Some of my online friends have now become “real” friends. What may have begun as a simple business-related connection has evolved into something much more personal. We share travel tips and restaurant recommendations, brag about our kids, offer support in our work and personal lives. As far as I’m concerned, the ability to meet people online you could have never met otherwise is a great gift.

Back to: what do you do when one of them dies?

It hasn’t come up for me, at least not yet. I have online friends who live all over the U.S., Canada, the U.K., France, Italy, and Australia. Many of them – most, probably – I’ve never met in person. We’re more like old fashioned pen pals.

I’m curious to hear about your online friendships. Have they evolved like some of mine? Do you consider them real friends, or do you relegate them to a lesser category? Would meeting them spoil things? Will you mourn them when they die?

On Friday, we’ll look at some responses, and consider the last question in particular.

Types of Grievers - Part 4

Let's face it: everyone has an opinion, not just about other things but about our own behavior. Imagine feeling you're not allowed to grieve honestly. It happens more often than you think, in this fourth and final look at types of grievers.





“You need to be strong for...”

“You need to move on.”

“Why haven’t you cried?”

We all grieve in our own way. But the fourth and final type of griever described here is the type no one wants to be. This griever can’t or won’t express their grief the way that feels most natural to them.

Generally speaking, in our culture, men are expected to be the strong ones when dealing with grief, and women are expected to willingly express their feelings.

Men may feel that any expression of emotion is not “masculine” and should be suppressed.

Women may feel that there’s something wrong with them because they’re not crying.

Men may feel they should limit their physical contact with others to stiff hugs and formal handshakes.

Women may resist the efforts of well-meaning friends and families to ‘let it out’.

Men may want desperately to talk about the person who has died.

Women may wonder why they feel relieved instead of sad.

Disapproval from friends, family, bosses and even strangers, can stifle our natural reactions to grief.

Our cultural and ethnic heritage, as well as the society we live in, can also contribute to the pressure that we need to grieve in a way that makes others feel more comfortable.

How do you grieve? Does it depend on the particular loss, or do you recognize that you handle grief in a certain way?

However you process grief, remember: everyone does it differently, and no one person’s way is the only way. No one should be bullied into grieving in a way that others dictate.

It may not be the way you grieve. But it’s just the right way for them.

Types of Grievers - Part 3

visualphotos.com

This type of griever is, I have to admit, more like me. It's hard for me to not multi-task, even when grieving. I bet you know someone like this.

Some people channel their grief into action: running errands, organizing, bringing food to the family.

Some people are very open with their feelings, talking and crying when they feel the need

Then there are people who do both.

I envy them.

Those are people who feel comfortable expressing their feelings, even if it’s uncomfortable to others. They cry in front of us, not because they expect us to make everything better, but because they need to cry. When they’re not crying – and sometimes even if they are – they keep busy. They organize the gathering after the funeral service, they make sure everyone at the wake signs the condolence book, they sign for flower deliveries.

They’re able to compartmentalize in a way, except both expressions – crying and doing – are positive actions that help them work through their grief.

Once all the services are over, and everyone has returned to their lives, not as much needs to be done. There is a hole, a lack of “things” to keep them busy. That’s the time – as anyone who has grieved can tell you – when the silence can be overwhelming.

So when you encounter one of these grievers, and marvel at their focus and ability to express themselves, step back. Let them do what they need to do.

Then pick up the phone a week or so later, to break that awful silence. And let them know you’re there for them.

Types of Grievers - Part 2

visualphotos.com

I'm old enough to remember when Jacqueline Kennedy was criticized for being "cold" at her husband's funeral. People thought she should've been more obviously emotional. Today we look at a type of grieving that our society has forced on men: instrumental.

Everyone grieves differently.

Often, people assume that someone who cries or talks about the person who has died is not handling their grief well. They are encouraged to stop crying, to not dwell on the past. But for that person, that’s how they express their grief.

Others are what may be defined as “instrumental” grievers.

Rather than express their grief by crying, they are more likely to intellectualize their grief.

They want to understand their grief, but they don’t want to talk about it.

They want to control their grief, so it doesn’t overwhelm them, or surprise them, or distract them.

They may also want to ‘do’ things. They may show up with food for the family, or run errands for them. They channel their grief into unemotional actions.

Just as emotional grievers are criticized, instrumental grievers also face disapproval. They may be considered cold or uncaring, because they don’t cry in public.

The ability to not cry doesn’t reflect a lack of caring. It’s just the way some people cope.

So if you see someone who has lost a close friend but acts as if they’re fine, don’t assume they’re in denial. Consider the possibility that they just grieve differently

And be kind.

Types of Grievers - Part 1

A year ago I wrote a series of posts about types of grievers, and I thought it was time to revisit that topic. The first type is "intuitive", and we'll take a look at others types over the next few days.




There is no one way to grieve.

There is no right way to grieve.

Everyone experiences grief in different ways.

Some people let themselves grieve in a physical way. Some clinicians refer to them as “intuitive” grievers. Another word for this type of griever could be “emotional”. Their grief is on display, not held back.

Intuitive grievers express feelings that are intense. Crying is probably the most common expression, and it mirrors how they are feeling.

Typically, in our culture, expressing grief in this way is considered a female response, rather than male. That also can imply weakness.

Crying is not the only physical manifestation of grief for an emotional griever. They may experience prolonged periods of confusion, inability to concentrate, disorganization, and disorientation. Their physical exhaustion and anxiety may be obvious.

This description may fit you, or someone you know. If it does, rest assured that you are not alone.

Well-meaning others may try to force you to stop expressing yourself this way. Let yourself grieve at your own pace. It’s healthy and right for you.

Calling All Girlfriends!



vintagesusie&wings.com

I started out writing my book believing I knew one thing for sure: I’d have no trouble finding women to talk about grieving a friend.

And that was true. But, as I’ve written here before, the men surprised me with their willingness not just to talk: sometimes they offered to talk, unsolicited. As a result, I currently have an imbalance of male/female stories in my book.

Now I’m looking for more women to interview. I’m particularly looking for women who have grieved a friend (male or female) with the following special circumstances:

            You’re a member of a religious community

            You’re a first responder or military

You channeled your grief into action by supporting a cause that either helped your friend or was otherwise important to them.

You experienced the deaths of several friends within a short period of time.

            You used your grief as a catalyst to make changes in your personal or professional life.



Sister of Loretto

If you’re willing to share your story, please email me at victorianoe@friendgrief.com. We can set up an interview online, by phone, or in person. You also have the option of answering a series of questions and emailing them to me.

By doing so, you agree to allow me to use your story in my book, but you always have the option of remaining anonymous.

Don’t want to, but know someone who might? Feel free to pass along this post.

I’m trying to finish interviews by July 1, so the sooner I hear from you, the better.

And know that I’m deeply grateful for your willingness to share your stories with me. Together we can help others who are grieving the deaths of their friends.

What To Do With Survivor Guilt

Old friends on the park bench

“I had no idea he was so unhappy.”

That’s a line from The Big Chill, when Alex’s friends are trying to make sense of his suicide. But it was echoed in a phone interview I did this morning.

We had spoken earlier in the week, about one of his friends who died a long time ago. But today we talked about two other friends who died since then.

A group of them had spent the weekend at a reunion, and from all accounts, had a great time. So it came as a complete shock when two weeks later, one of them committed suicide.

“I had no idea he was so troubled,” was the observation. The friend had a drinking problem, though he showed no signs of it when they were together. But as most of us know, that doesn’t mean anything.

There was plenty of regret in his voice, twelve years after his friend’s suicide. What complicates this kind of grief is not knowing: not knowing the cause and who or what to blame.

Being (mostly) rational beings, we like to have pat answers to life’s mysteries. But this is one time when there are rarely answers that satisfy us.

He never said he felt guilty…exactly. But there was certainly regret in his voice.

What if his friend had given a sign that he was troubled? Could he have talked to him about it? Could he have gotten him past his dark mood? Could he have helped? They weren’t close, but still…

There are, of course, no answers to those questions. He’ll never know what, if anything, anyone could’ve done to prevent that suicide.

Before we hung up, we discussed two other friends – all from the same group – who are very much alive. We talked about what they’re doing now, and by the time we hung up, he decided to call one and visit the other.

Guilt doesn’t really serve a useful purpose. It’s often what gets us stuck in our grief. And although he may not have made a conscious connection to the friend who committed suicide, his decision to re-connect with other friends made me smile.

If you’re feeling guilty about a friend who died, if the regrets feel overwhelming, do something to avoid feeling that again. Reach out to friends who are still here.

You’ll be glad you did.

Of Course I’m Depressed: My Best Friend Died

illustrationsof.com

For the past few weeks, the world has weighed in on a debate that could potentially affect us all.

The American Psychiatric Association’s DSM-5 – the Bible of psychiatric disorders – could include grief as a form of severe depression.

There is little debate that elements of grief are consistent with mild depression: mood swings, inability to sleep or enjoy normal activities. It can be difficult for seasoned professionals to differentiate between the two.

A diagnosis of clinical depression is not something to be taken lightly. And normal grief can spiral into clinical depression. There are already protocols in place to deal with severe depression.

But turning normal grief into something that requires therapy and/or medication after two weeks…well, to me that’s going too far.

A March 23 article in Huffington Post quotes Dr. Joanne Cacciatore, of the Center for Trauma and Loss:

Open Letter to the Board of Trustees of the American Psychiatric Association and to the DSM 5 Task Force

           

Two weeks ago, I wrote a blog opposing the DSM 5's proposal to reduce the DSM IV bereavement exclusion.

This blog has since gone viral in the most incredible way -- 100,000 readers within its first few weeks. It seems that this proposal is experienced as an outrageous insult by the very people it is intended to help.

I have more than sixteen years experience dealing with tens of thousands of grieving people whose children die or are dying at any age and from any cause. To my knowledge, there is no empirical standing for the arbitrary two-week time frame, and thus this proposal not only contradicts good common sense but also rests on weak scientific evidence.

One thing in which the literature is clear: long-term psychological distress is common in this population and other populations suffering traumatic deaths. In my experience both as a researcher and clinician in the field and also as a bereaved parent, the DSM 5 proposal is radical, unnecessary, challenges what it means to be human, and for some may be dangerous.

Those with severe depressive symptoms distinguishable from normal grief can already be diagnosed as soon as is needed using the DSM IV criteria. In contrast, DSM 5 would require a distinction between normal grief and mild depression shortly after the death of a loved one that is often impossible to discern for even the most experienced clinicians. The DSM 5 may well create problematic false positives -- and thus cause further harm, to an already vulnerable population. There are many more reasons we oppose these changes, many of which are outlined in my blog.

Our international organization (MISS Foundation) has 77 chapters around the world and has helped countless grieving families and the professionals who serve them. All our services are free and we are a volunteer-based organization. Our website gets more than one million hits per month and we have 27 online support groups. We oppose this change with our minds, with our hearts, and with our numbers.

I speak on behalf of the MISS Foundation's grieving families: Should the DSM 5 stubbornly ignore the evidence and the mounting professional and public opposition, our last alternative will be to call for more direct action -- in the short term, our organization will rally the support of Congressional leaders; in the longer term, we will have no choice but to join a concerted boycott against the use of the DSM 5 in treating bereaved families facing the death of a child.

…On behalf of hundreds of thousands of bereaved people around the world, I implore you to reverse this poorly conceived and unnecessary decision. My more than 100,000 readers and I hope to hear from you soon.

What do you think? Is two weeks long enough for “normal” grief? Should those grieving longer than that be referred to a psychiatrist for severe depression?

I’ll be at the ADEC (Association for Death Education and Counseling) conference later this week. I look forward to hearing more opinions on this.

 

Workplace Grief: IndyCar-Style

radiomichigana.com

When we hear the term ‘workplace grief’, we probably think of a traditional business setting. Maybe a former employee came back and shot people. Maybe the boss dropped dead of a heart attack. Maybe there was an accident.

But people make their livings in a lot of places that aren’t cubicles: baseball diamonds, stages, beaches, movie theatres, day care centers, gyms.

Sometimes, by virtual of their professions, people also find themselves in the public eye. Knowing you’re going to – rightly or wrongly – be judged by the media and strangers can reasonably compound your grief for your co-worker.

Last October, Dan Wheldon died in a horrific crash at Las Vegas Motor Speedway. British-born Wheldon, the two-time Indianapolis 500 winner, lived in St. Petersburg, Florida with his wife and two young children. He was 33.

This weekend, the 2012 IndyCar season opens…in St. Petersburg.

There will be memorials all weekend pre-race ceremony; orange ribbons (a tribute to his car) sold to raise money for the Alzheimer’s Foundation; his sister will drop the flag and present the winner’s trophy; Turn 10 rechristened “Dan Wheldon Way”.

Those of us watching on TV will be subjected to repeated replays of the fiery images of Wheldon’s last moments.

His friends – his co-workers – don’t have to watch the replays: many of them saw it happen from their own race cars.

They now have to go do the thing they love – the thing Dan Wheldon loved.

The thing that killed him.

The thing they know could also kill them.

Some of them talked about it in USA Today’s March 20 issue:

“Do I still want to do this? Yeah, I do,” said three-time defending champion Dario Franchitti, who never celebrated the title in the wake of his friend and former teammate’s death. “It was something I had to answer pretty quickly because I was in the car (testing) at Indy a week later, and it didn’t take me long to answer it, and I was quite surprised…I hate to sound blasé,” he said. “It’s not a nice thing. It’s just part of it, man, but that doesn’t mean you forget the person. You get back in the car and get on with it.”

Will Power, who was injured in the same crash, doesn’t know what to expect this weekend:

“I have thought about Dan a lot,” he said. “Every time I see his photo, I can’t help but be sad…and it can happen to anyone. When you get in the car, you have to put it aside.”

Well, you say, it’s a dangerous sport. You have to be a little nuts to enjoy racing around at 220mph, knowing full well you could die at any moment.

That may be true. But danger is everywhere: it’s just a little more obvious on the IndyCar circuit.

Being part of a dangerous profession doesn’t exempt you from grieving your co-workers.

Grief counseling was offered for the drivers, but it sounds like many leaned on each other for support. James Hinchcliffe – in the unenviable position of driving the GoDaddy.com-sponsored car that was supposed to be Wheldon’s – appreciated the camaraderie and support:

“We’ve had a good mourning period. I talked to probably 10 or 12 drivers in the last couple of weeks…Especially right after the event, we all needed each other, and some of these guys have been through this stuff before,. This was the first time I’ve ever had to deal with a (racing death), and it was cool to have guys to lean on.”

Though not an official “anniversary” in the sense that we commemorate certain dates after a person’s death, this weekend will be a challenging one for everyone associated with racing.

Kudos to the drivers for accepting the support they needed – professional or other drivers – to help them through their grief.

But even as they prepare to remember Dan Wheldon, and prepare to shut out all distractions to drive their best race, they all know what his close friend and former teammate Tony Kanaan knows:

“Eventually we need…I need…to let it go,” Kanaan said. “I’m going to try to be as positive as I can when I get (to St. Petersburg to race). Try to be strong and not as emotional. But I don’t think you can prepare yourself.”