always the babysitter

not every mention of their person is the saddest part of their day. sometimes saying "this was their favorite song" "oh they would have LOVED this" "God I wish they could hear the conversation happening at the next table" "I wish they were here" is lighthearted. the mention of their person can be joyful. or melancholic. or, of course, sad. it can be all of those things at once. but no matter, react to the sentiments as just another piece of the conversation.

you don't need to drop a 55 pound weight onto the conversation and stare at us in pity or silently stare in a combination of confusion and discomfort and sadness.

it's okay. we know they're dead. you acknowledging that in an equal state of nonchalantness will not shock us to death, it's not tasteless or crude. it's a relief. our dead people are still parts of our lives just like anything else, and giving your loved ones the space and comfort and safety to talk about their person is huge.

you can always respond by asking to hear more, by mimicking their tone. your friend laughs and says "they would have LOVED this", take it as a chance to learn why! was their favorite color yellow? did they love kitschy little throw pillows? did they utterly DESPISE kitschy throw pillows? are they referencing a specific story?

if they see someone that looks like their person and get a little sad, ask what reminds them of their person. what was their favorite feature of their person? does it make them mostly sad to see someone who looks like their person? did it make them feel a little bit happy for a moment?

we want to talk about our deceased loved ones. we yearn to mention people who shaped us. the way our society has conditioned us to behave around grief, to respond to the grieving, and to grieve ourselves is so backwards and void of empathy, so we often don't say what we wish we could say. (bell hooks has a wonderful chapter on this in all about love, new visions (ch 11))

Now the kitchen is empty and I am alone at the dinner table. Grief is the only thing in front of me. I am not ready. I wish you had of asked me if I was ready.

I am alone at this table and I am not ready. Patience was not his virtue but grief is setting the table and I am not ready to say goodbye. I wish you had waited till I was ready.

And in a whisper, I hear my father say ‘but here it is, in front of you. Grief does not wait for dinner to be served before it takes a seat at the table.’

Claire C. Holland, from I Am Not Your Final Girl: Poems; “Ginger”