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| STUFF THAT’S HARD TO TALK ABOUT
February 27, 2023
In recent days I had something to do. It wasn’t something I had to do, but I couldn’t let the event pass without calling or writing. I’ve had considerable experience with this, but find no joy in it each – that began in 2009. My friend Barbara (don’t you dare call her Barb) Stewart was sick; her 3rd go-round with breast cancer was, according to a mutual friend, going to end soon. I was stunned and wanted to call or visit my friend very badly. In those last few years of her life in Edmonton, we didn’t talk as often because I had moved to Calgary. Our calls were infrequent but always on our birthdays in August or when we felt motivated to shoot the breeze or grouse about some bad-policy announcement by the government, etc.
What to do?
I’d known people who died, usually without knowing anything was imminent – as is the case with most deaths of people who are not yet old when making their way along that last lap around the track …
When that happens, the self-talk has always been regret at having not seen them or talked with them for too long a stretch, wanting to say goodbye, tell them how much they meant to me, offer help in some way if assistance can be delivered or needed – but knowing it’s likely too late to do anything that might matter, extend their life, or be of value to them. The self-talk always told me that was a selfish regret that if they mattered that much to me, or me to them, I’d have been in touch more often and would not be blindsided by their passing. Also, isn’t that connecting, the pre-grieving, for family and ‘closer friends’?
I knew her husband Neil, the neurologist (he treated my carpal tunnel syndrome), but I can’t say I knew him well, but I knew his wife thoroughly from many years serving together on boards and committees, lobbying efforts on behalf of Albertans with disabilities and mobility concerns, and being part of a team on six rounds (every four years) of Building Code and Fire Code reviews, and lots of laughs at trips to conferences in Calgary, Vancouver and Ottawa. We made some law (Accessibility Policy for Buildings and Employment) for the City of Edmonton on initiatives that have endured nearly 30 years and have been copied in numerous jurisdictions worldwide. And through that, I learned far more about Neil and the depth of their relationship than most private people would want to know – so my respect for my friend was profound and/or connection/collaboration tested and proven effective.
Sorry readers, that’s a long but necessary preamble for my point …
I wanted to call, but I was at a loss to know what to say, what to ask, or how to start. (I’ve written about that extraordinary experience before in this column – but it bears retelling)
That day, Neil doubted she was up to even a 15-minute call. As we approached two hours, it was time to end the call. She passed away a few days later.
She taught/encouraged me, “Let’s just talk, as we always have.” We laughed, told stories, and gossiped about some common adversaries; she made me promise not to give up being a pain in their side …
What I’ve learned is that most people don’t call. Most people don’t know what to say, and consequently, people facing the end of their lives are left alone rather than connecting with people who care. I believe there is a gift in that, for both, and I benefited greatly from that exchange. It was profound and the lesson learned, which I’ve been happy to pass along.
And that has also taught me to act when someone I know has suffered a loss.
Recent experiences – too many obituaries to read, of friends, colleagues and their families ‘way too many’ calls to make, letters and cards to write – but that’s a factor of the age of my contemporaries, losing partners, siblings and very old parents mostly. With each experience, you would think it would get easier. Choosing good words to convey a supportive sentiment, perhaps, but the act of starting remains difficult. I think it should be difficult – it’s not about feeling good or being skilled passing out platitudes; you do it to offer some comfort to someone enduring extreme hurt, to show them they are seen, heard, valued, and worth your time – and it’s never any trouble.
I wrote to someone recently – I don’t know them well, but a family member died, so I was self-required to write, which I did.
I got an appreciative reply that assured me that my writing was not a mistake; it was valued and appreciated.
When in doubt, do it!
Call, write, visit – don’t send something Hallmark made. Invest a bit of time; it doesn’t matter how you start or what you say.
Just begin …
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