Random Thoughts on Friend Grief

Last week, there was a horrific crash on I-94 near Michigan City, Indiana. Four dozen vehicles – including 18 semis – were involved in the accident caused by icy roads and whiteout conditions. Three people died.


A story that came out today was about one of those who died. His family was notified by someone at the coroner’s office who recognized him when the body was delivered.

Now and then we hear stories of first responders who arrive at the scene of a tragedy, only to find that they know a victim. This was someone who wasn’t there, but I imagine the shock of recognition was just as great.

As I research the next book on the military, I hear stories about troops whose friends die in front of them – during battle or on the way to medical help.

I don’t want to designate a hierarchy of grief. Everyone who experiences the death of a friend grieves in their own way, often deeply. But seeing your friend die – or seeing their body soon after – must surely be a special kind of hell.

I thought I was prepared when a friend of mine died this week. He was older – 89 – and had lived an amazing, full life. He was not afraid of death.

When he died on Wednesday, I was much less prepared than I expected. Oh, I knew I’d grieve, probably cry. But the depth of the grief has taken me by surprise. I’ll write more about him here, but not now; maybe not for a long time.

What I’m not going to do is try to ignore it, “get over it” so I can feel better. I’ve learned – as you probably have, too – that ignoring grief just means it will come back and bite you in the butt later.

It’s all right to be sad when your friend dies. Don’t listen to the people who dismiss your grief as unimportant. If you didn’t love your friend, you wouldn’t feel the loss so deeply.

And that’s okay.

 

 

 

Update on Friend Grief and AIDS

One of the benefits of self-publishing is the ability to revise your books at your discretion.

The second book in my series, Friend Grief and AIDS: Thirty Years of Burying Our Friends, has been well-received. It recently earned a 5-star review on Readers Favorites and continues to generate impassioned – and positive – reviews on other sites.

When I wrote it a year ago, the statistics and resources in the back of the book were current. Time for an update.

Around March 1, I will re-release Friend Grief and AIDS with:

• Updated statistics on HIV and AIDS around the world
• Additional books and films for those who are interested
• More links to organizations devoted to education, prevention, treatment and advocacy

If you have already purchased a copy, or plan to purchase one before then, thank you! I will post that updated information as a free pdf on the Resources page here in early March. That way those of you with the original book can see what’s new.

An added note: that new version is a reward for a Kickstarter campaign happening right now. The Last One is a documentary about the AIDS Quilt:

Stigma isn’t silent. Whether it’s spoken at the pulpit or spoken under one’s breath, in political rhetoric or private conversation, it is loud. It is insidious. It is lethal.

In The Last One: The Story of the AIDS Memorial Quilt, we follow the AIDS Memorial Quilt from inception to the present day to uncover how stigma has fueled the growth of the greatest pandemic in human history.

So, that’s what’s going on right now with Friend Grief and AIDS. If you haven’t read it yet, I hope you will – either now or when the updated version is released. Whether you remember the dark, early days of the epidemic or not, I think you’ll find the stories in the book both disturbing and inspiring.

Being Loyal to a Dead Friend

Yesterday I was watching a little French film called Delicacy, starring one of my favorite actresses, Audrey Tautou. She plays a young woman whose world is turned upside down when her husband, Francois, is killed suddenly. She throws herself into her work, so she doesn’t have to feel.

But after several years, a most unlikely co-worker develops feelings for her. One night he winds up at her apartment, where a small party is taking place. All of the people there were friends with her husband, and they don’t respond well to this new man’s presence. “This is the first time they’ve seen me with anyone,” she explains.

Maybe you’ve been one of those friends. The spouse/partner of a deceased friend has found someone else to love. Is that too much to ask for you to be happy ?

Sometimes it is. People can be very judgmental about those who grieve. Why do they cry all the time? Why don’t they ever cry? When are they going to move on? Why are they rushing things?

It’s only natural we want the memory of our friend to live on, but sometimes we expect a lot. We expect time to stand still because we don’t want to feel like that friend is being replaced.

You can’t replace your friends. It’s only natural, especially as you grow older, that your circle of friends dwindles. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make new ones, as long as you think of them as “new” and not “replacements”.

When you look at your friend’s partner, you think of your friend. It may be that you have only known them as a couple. But now that couple is no more. And you are left wondering what to do.

You want to remain loyal to the friend who died, and in your mind, that means expecting survivors – including you – to maintain their memory.

But just as you are bound to make new friends, so their spouse/partner is likely to love again. It doesn’t erase the friendship you had before, nor does it discount their partnership.

So while it may be a shock to hear that friend’s spouse or partner has learned to love someone else, take a deep breath. No one needs to remain stuck in their grief.

Remember your friend, appreciate the time you spent together, and be happy that their love allowed others to be able to love again.

Here is Roger Ebert’s review from 2012.

This Year – and Next - in Friend Grief

Those of you who have been following my blog for a while know that this has been quite a year. I think we all have the tendency to look back in late December, and cringe at the thought of all we’d planned to do but didn’t. I started to do that not long ago, but had to stop myself.

I was looking at only one part of my goals for this year, and in that category I definitely came up short: I self-published three books instead of six. Yeah, I know, I was a bit too optimistic. But what surprised me more than anything was what I accomplished that was not on my list. And I’ll tell you right now, most of these things were not anything I planned on:

1.      Published three books: Friend Grief and Anger: When Your Friend Dies and No One Gives A Damn; Friend Grief and AIDS: Thirty Years of Burying Our Friends; Friend Grief and 9/11: The Forgotten Mourners.

2.      Kept this blog going, as well as my Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Google+, LinkedIn and Goodreads accounts.

3.      Appeared on blogs such as DIY MFA, The Writer’s Guide to E-publishing, Choices, and Memoir Writer’s Journey.

4.      Became a Huffington Post blogger

5.      Did my first blog talk radio show (you can listen here.)

6.      Reviewed a dozen books for BroadwayWorld.com.

7.      Participated in Printers Row Book Fair and Chicago Book Expo, as well as the annual ADEC (Association for Death Education & Counseling) Conference book fair.

 

 

Along the way, I met some remarkable people. Some of them were people I interviewed for my books. Some of them were personal heroes, like the guys who started ACT UP in 1987.

And while a recurrence of symptoms from my concussion four years ago was not in my plans, the forced slow-down (which you probably noticed from my less-frequent posts for the past couple months) has given me a chance to catch my breath.

What can you expect from Friend Grief in 2014? More. A lot more:

1.      Three more books in the Friend Grief series. One is on the military; one on grieving friends you work with. The final book will be stories of people (like me) who made major life changes at the death of a friend.

2.      More posts here and on all the social media sites listed above.

3.      More book reviews here and on BroadwayWorld.com.

4.      More blog posts on Huffington Post.

5.      More terrific guest bloggers here talking about how they faced grieving a friend.

6.      More related content, like free lesson plans/discussion guides for all the Friend Grief books.

7.      A completely redesigned website.

 

I couldn't have done it all without you, my readers. Your comments - on and offline - have kept me going when I was most frustrated. You are in my thoughts every time I sit down at the computer. I appreciate your support more than you know.

And believe it or not, I already know what comes after those next three Friend Grief books.

But you’ll have to stick around to find out what else is coming. J

See you next year!

 

Friends, Calendars and Facebook

Happy birthday, Mare

I used to be very diligent about recording birthdays on my calendar. Every year, I’d get a new datebook and wall calendar, and the first thing I’d do is list birthdays of friends and family. Somehow I got out of that habit.

When I was addressing Christmas cards the other day, I paged through my address book (yes, I still have an actual address book). Every time I turned to a new page, I said to myself “he’s dead” or “she’s dead” or “they’re both dead”. I don’t know about you, but I can’t bring myself to get a new address book. That would mean not putting in names of friends and family who are no longer with us. Stupid, I know, but I guess I like the reminders when I open it up. This year, though, it seemed like there were a lot fewer people getting cards from me.

Facebook has been a great help, for those times I’ve forgotten about someone’s birthday. In “Events”, the birthdays of my Facebook friends are listed. I’m warned a week in advance and the day before. Sometimes I’m ahead of the game, sometimes I have an “oh, shit” reaction to having forgotten.

The day before, I get a reminder that the next day is someone’s birthday. That’s what happened yesterday, when Facebook reminded me that Christmas Eve is Mary Ellen’s birthday. I didn’t need reminding; it’s not the kind of date that anyone’s likely to forget. The problem is that Mary Ellen died in February.

Why did I get the reminder? Because her Facebook page is still here. No one had posted on it since right after her death, but this morning, the page is filling up with birthday wishes. The grief felt by those left behind is obviously still very raw, but the love is stronger.

The holidays are a time of reflection, no matter your religious persuasion. Take a few minutes this week and drag out that address book (or check it on your phone), scroll through your friends list on Facebook. Raise a glass to those who died recently or those who are long gone. And vow to keep their memory alive for another year.

Friends and/or Loved Ones

If you’re like me, you’ve been through your share of wakes and funerals. Although every culture has their own traditions, one is universal: the role of a friend.

Family members are typically at the center of the grief universe. They’re the ones notifying the world, making arrangements, dealing with logistics. But I think we can all agree on what most people expect friends of the deceased to do: support the family. Just support the family.

I saw a lot of exceptions to this when I worked in the AIDS community. People, whose families had rejected and abandoned them, even as they were dying, relied on their friends for everything. But generally speaking, if a friend of yours dies, you’re relegated to a supporting role.

You do as you’re told, or asked. If you’re lucky, the family asks you to be a pallbearer, or say a few words at the service. You keep your mouth shut when the family does things that your friend would’ve hated, telling yourself that funerals are to comfort the living. You listen while people with tenuous connections to your friend exaggerate their importance in the life that you are trying to celebrate.

And you wonder who came up with the phrase “friends and loved ones”.

I’d like you to think about that phrase the next time you read an obituary or listen to a eulogy. Think about the separate designation for friends, as if you weren’t loved.

You don’t have to file a formal protest or create a scene – just make a promise to yourself to refer to all mourners as “loved ones”.

Because it’s true.

#ThrowbackThursday

I know today’s Wednesday. Bear with me.

For those not on Facebook, the online community has embraced a couple of day-specific rituals. One is “Hump Day” on Wednesdays (admit it – you’re thinking about that commercial with the camel in the office, aren’t you?). Fridays, of course are “TGIF”. One that is relatively new is reserved for Thursdays.

#ThrowbackThursday is devoted to recalling the past. On that day, you will likely see people posting photos of themselves and people they know. Sometimes they post pictures of themselves as children. Sometimes they post old family photos. But what I’ve noticed is that most of their pictures are of friends.

Sometimes it’s a photo of just one person, a friend from their childhood, their neighborhood or school. Sometimes it’s a photo of themselves with a group of friends. And very often, the friend in the photo is dead.

This is the photo I posted on the Thursday before World AIDS Day. It was taken in September, 1990, at a black-tie fundraiser that my assistant, Steve Showalter and I worked on for months. Our reward, at the point in the evening when that picture was taken, was to have one dance together. He was a hard-working, sweet guy, who later died of AIDS.

Sometimes people will post a photo of a group of friends – from work or school, on vacation or at a rock concert – and mention who in the group is still alive. Others will weigh in with remembrances of those who have died.

“If you still remember them, they’re not really dead,” Doctor Who once said. That’s where the internet – sites like Facebook and Pinterest – give us the ability to remember our friends, and share them with others.

So, if you’re on Facebook tomorrow, join in the #ThrowbackThursday remembrances. Post a picture of a friend, with a story of why they were so important in your life.

“Gone, but not forgotten.” That’s the beauty of the internet.