... We can appreciate the natural timelines after sudden unexpected death. The first days an unbearable explosion of confused pain that engulfs family and friends. Then funeral preparation. Days of stunned loss and disbelief, the start of the long process of asking why, mixed with the erosive guilt of finding missed warnings. The distracting logistics of navigating medical examiners, funeral directors, wakes, and burials. The funeral itself, hopefully an overwhelming affirmation of a life stopped, a focus of love and loss. Then the fall. We do not often talk about the landscape of grief after the immediate loss. When the crowds disperse, the world starts turning again, and those most distressed are left behind. When the questions remain, when the enormity of loss grows with each day of absence. The realization that life has changed forever. When the air is sucked out of bubbles of normality by moments of sharp memory. We can show up. Almost universally, we are unsure if we should enter the homes and lives of those who are grieving. For those we love, we should swallow the knot in our stomach, compose ourselves, knock on the door, and give whatever is needed at that moment. If we watch carefully, we will know when to provide space. It is easier for the grieving to send us away than ask us for help ...
Language: en
LA - en SN - 0098-7484 UR - http://dx.doi.org/10.1001/jama.2020.3089 ID - ref1 ER -