“Sharing tales of those we’ve lost
is how we keep from
really losing them.”

Mitch Albom

In reference to my mother’s passing last August, a good friend asked me the other day, “How are you doing?” I’m grateful to say that my response was brief, but honest: “I’m doin’ okay!”

For most people, the death of a loved one is a painful experience. First of all, the actual death, even when we know it’s coming, can leave us feeling a bit disoriented. When there is no prior warning that our loved one is going to die, we can be left feeling absolutely devastated. I’ve experienced both. Secondly, the rituals of paying our respects to the deceased, even when we call these events celebrations of life, can be agonizing. Whether it be a multi-day affair with a wake followed by a formal church funeral and cemetery burial, or a simple memorial service with an urn, the public farewell to our beloved can be excruciating. 

Finally, and this just might be the most difficult part, in the weeks and months after the death of our loved one, while everyone around us is returning to business as usual, we continue to experience the sting of our loss. Seeing our family and friends moving on with their own lives can result in feelings of abandonment, or even betrayal. 

So how do we cope? After my Dad’s unexpected death in 2008, I was overwhelmed with the reality that those around me had apparently moved on — rather quickly. I, on the other hand, struggled through a process of profound grief which lasted close to a year. No one did anything wrong, but few seemed to recognize or understand the depth of my desolation.

My Mom’s death last August was a very different experience. We knew it was coming. We said our goodbyes. We accompanied her on her journey to death. It was a spiritual experience. Despite this, the sense of loss was real — and still is. I find tremendous solace in sharing stories about my parents. I’m not obsessed with doing so, but when I have an opportunity to mention something I learned from either Dad or Mom, I find tremendous peace in doing so. I might tell a story about my Dad’s experience as a San Francisco firefighter, or brag about Mom’s special way of treating everyone she encountered with kindness and compassion. I thoroughly enjoy doing this when the opportunity presents itself. It is a healing experience for me.

So often, when someone we love has lost a loved one, we feel awkward mentioning the deceased person, fearing that doing so might upset the grieving person. I’ve found that, in most cases, the exact opposite is true. When we ask a friend about the person who died, we not only remind our friend that we have not forgotten their loss, but that we still care about the deceased person and are comfortable mentioning them in our conversation.

Death makes us uncomfortable, whether the loss is our own or that of someone we care for. I think it’s important to reflect on this, to realize, as Mitch Albom reminds us, that talking about those we’ve lost helps keep the deceased person in our lives. Ernest Hemingway poignantly reminded us, “No one you love is ever truly lost.”