JUST SAY SOMETHING
BY Betsy Okonski
Published in Newsweek, May 6, 1996, page 14  (Submitted by Pamela Mason)

Death is portrayed everywhere in popular culture. In this superficial context, people find it easy to talk about it. But it is dramatized, distant, impersonal. Grief, if it is acknowledged appears to last only a short time. Sadly, popular culture does not teach us about the true nature of grief, nor does it prepare us for the moment when death touches the lives of people we know. When death becomes personal, people don't know what to say.
One evening last spring, I was in labor with our third child. The baby was active and I had a particularly acute sense of being about to meet a new person. Suddenly everything went wrong. I began bleeding. Kaitlin was born in the car two blocks from the hospital and she didn't breathe. The hospital's emergency room staff could not resuscitate her.
My husband and I were in complete shock. We held Kaitlin and cried. It wasn't until after we went home empty handed that her death started to become real. Some family members, expecting to visit in a time of joy, instead consoled us and shared our grief. Flowers and notes arrived as word of our loss spread. But after about two weeks, the cards stopped coming. For months I literally waited by the mailbox hoping for word from the many people who must have known by then but had never responded.  During that time, I discovered the amazing power of a humble sympathy card to bring me a measure of comfort. It was a tangible demonstration that someone else cared. And even though I cried every time I encountered someone who offered their condolences, it helped to know that another person recognized my loss. When the sympathy trickled off to nothing, I felt abandoned.
A few months after Kaitlin died, we moved to another state. Meeting new people has become very stressful. "How many children do you have?" is one of the first things new acquaintances ask. I have to decide each time how and when to tell them about Kaitlin, because it is bound to come up eventually. How can I discuss pregnancy with another mother and not talk about all three experiences? I would rather tell new acquaintances myself than have them learn from my 3-year-old daughter, who talks about Kaitlin's death whenever something reminds her of it. Besides, I always hope that I will discover a kindred soul who has lost a child of her own and understands what I am going through.
I want to talk about Kaitlin, just as I would if she had lived. It may seem as though I should not miss someone I never knew, but this is not the case. I spent nine months rearranging my life to include a new little person. In that time Kaitlin became a part of our family; she influenced our decisions and our vision of the future, and she created memories. Her death was the catalyst for profound changes in our lives. It feels like a lie to deliberately exclude mentioning her when discussing part of my life that involved her.
Because people often react negatively when I bring her up, I am constantly debating whether it is worth it. When I talk about Kaitlin and other people become clearly uncomfortable, ironically, I feel obliged to nurture them. And I feel isolated when someone changes the subject. Not only have I lost my daughter I have lost the right to talk openly about her existence.  I realize that many times people avoid talking about Kaitlin because they simply do not know what to say. I have done the same myself. Before we lost Kaitlin, I was so uncomfortable with death and grief that I let my discomfort overcome my caring. Only months before our baby died, a neighbor lost her baby at birth. I regret now that when I saw her after it happened, I didn't say anything at all. Now I understand how much a simple "I'm sorry to hear of your loss" can mean, even from a relative stranger. It is difficult to know what to say. I would like to share what I've had to learn the hard way.
One of the most helpful things you can do for a bereaved person is to acknowledge the loss. Don't fear causing pain by bringing it up. It was much more upsetting to me when someone acted like nothing had happened. Keep it simple. "I'm sorry" may feel inadequate, but the truth is that there is really nothing you can say that will take the pain away. Sincerely said, "I'm sorry" says that you care, and that's what is truly needed.
Another caring gesture is to call or send a sympathy card. This goes beyond etiquette; it is a matter of showing support. You may feel very sad for a grieving person and think about them a lot, but caring does not do any good unless you communicate it. It only takes a few minutes to send a card, and the act itself is much more meaningful than the exact text.  The bereaved I've met really want to talk about their loss. Be willing to listen. You don't have to say anything brilliant. Recognition of their feelings with statements such as "This must be very hard for you," and caring comments like "I want to listen" and "I feel so sad for you" are helpful. All that person can think about is that their loved one is gone. Remarks like "You can have another baby," "It is for the best" or "It's God's will" don't help.
Even if you don't know a person well, don't let that stop you from doing or saying something. Just let them know that you were sorry to hear what happened. I never perceived that as inappropriate, even from the most casual acquaintances. On the contrary, I was gratified to know that they cared. Some of the most touching sympathy I received was from people I barely knew, partly because I didn't expect it.
Grief lasts a long time. The first year in particular is full of holidays, birthdays and other painful milestones. Keep following up, ask your friend or acquaintance how they are managing with their feelings. Or if you have not acknowledged their loss yet, regardless of the reason, do it now. It is never too late.
Acknowledgment and support are always gratefully received, especially after the initial outpouring subsides. Say, "I'm sorry." Say, "I have been thinking of you." Or say, "I want you to know that I care." Just say something. It really does make a difference.