Molly Piper

We’ll never know.

We had some close friends come over to listen to the show with us, ate tacos, and waited with more and more anticipation as the two-hour show sauntered on. They read the sonnets throughout the show, some of the ones that were on the homepage with Abraham’s and some that weren’t. We were mentally checking off the ones that they were reading as no longer being contenders, hoping we would hear Abraham’s read at the end of the show, kind of like a grand finale.

But then the show started closing, and they made it clear that they had read all the sonnets for the evening. Now here’s the most disappointing part—they took all these “finalists” and just put their names in a basket and drew a winner!

To me, that doesn’t really feel like a contest. I suppose it’s a contest because some people were eliminated, but then to just pick a random winner! Oh the injustice of it all!

So I will probably never know what my “Sleep Number” is. I suppose if I get to share a lumpy mattress with such a creative, brilliant, hilarious guy I can’t complain too much.

By the way, Abraham was still considered a finalist, even though he wasn’t read on the air. I think he wins a book of sonnets as a consolation prize.

It is my pleasure to take a brief breath in our grief discussion to announce that my husband is a superstar. Truly, he is.

He submitted a sonnet to A Prairie Home Companion’s Love Sonnet Contest last week. They contacted him today to ask if they could post it on their site! You can go here to read it. It’s also on the homepage, if you want to scroll down and see it in all it’s front-page glory.

By the way, the grand prize is a Sleep Number bed. With our lumpy mattress, I’m really hoping he wins. They announce the winner this week on the show!

I’m a little bit proud of him. I think I squeal with delight every time I think about it.

How To Help Your Grieving Friend, Part 7

What do you say when someone asks you “How are you doing?” I usually give the knee-jerk, no-brain response, “Good,” or “Okay.” If you’re grieving, it’s a strange question: are they just using it as a greeting where they expect me to say “fine,” or are they really trying to get at how I’m feeling? Both are okay. It’s just hard sometimes to know which one it is.

You can make it clear by asking specific questions when you talk to your grieving friend. This is especially helpful because, remember, she’s a scatterbrain.

I’ve been helped by friends who ask me well thought-out questions. When I sit down with them, I know that I won’t have to synthesize something out of the mush that is my brain to answer that wide-open “How are you doing?” question.

They’re specific. They ask about my last visit to the cemetery. They ask if Felicity had a lot of hair. They say what they imagine I’m feeling so I can say, “No, it’s more like…” or “Yeah, it’s kind of like that.”

This kind of conversation is relieving to me. Not only does it take a lot of the pressure off, it helps me know that they really think about me and they’re trying to imagine themselves in my shoes. They’re not afraid to take conversational risks, put thoughts out there, and steer the conversation.

“How are you doing?” has it’s place, but the most meaningful interactions for me have been the ones where I haven’t had to come up with answers from scratch. It’s a relief when someone else brings the energy to the conversation by guiding it with perceptive and specific questions.

(Read other posts in this series.)

How To Help Your Grieving Friend, Part 6

I tend to be a rule-follower. I like to follow instructions. That’s why I knit and I don’t do interior design. I get to follow a pattern when I knit. I get to check off the boxes in my mind as I go down the pattern—DONE! Wow, that feels good.

That’s not how it is when you’re grieving. That’s not how it will be if you persevere in friendship with a grieving person. It’s more like a spontaneous dance or some kind of unfunny improv. And if you’re like me, that can be anything from annoying to downright infuriating.

In my last post I said it’s often good to talk to your grieving friend about her loss. Now I’m going to turn around and tell you it’s not good. Sort of. It’s complicated.

I’ve had a lot of people come up and ask me how I’m doing because they want to know me in this hard time. Sometimes I’m able to engage emotionally. But when someone asks me how I’m doing and in that moment I’m struggling to just be a normal woman (as opposed to a weepy one), I don’t know how to respond. I don’t always want to grieve or open up.

I really appreciate their concern and prayers. What I’ve discovered, though, is that this kind of conversation can accidentally place a burden on the friend grieving to “have a moment” right then.

I try to receive graciously, because I know that it comes from my friend’s genuine care for me. I know it, but I don’t always feel it. Often all I feel is a huge expectation from that person: “Grieve—now!”

I know these kinds of interactions happen because I don’t get to see these friends regularly and they are trying to seize the moment to let me know they care. But it’s just not possible for me to turn it on. I can’t grieve on command.

So if you are an acquaintance of a grieving person and you try to find out how she’s doing (out of sincere love and concern) you might get a response like, “Today’s a good day. Thanks for asking,” or “Today has been kind of hard. Thanks for asking.” This might not be what you expected. Perhaps she’s not letting you in emotionally the way you were hoping. But please accept whatever she can give you even if it’s not much.

Just be sure to hear the second part of her answer—“Thanks for asking.”

(Read other posts in this series.)

How To Help Your Grieving Friend, Part 5

Talking with a grieving friend is like entering a minefield. You’re treading very carefully, weighing each word-step, wondering if this is going to set something off.

I’ve had questions from people about what specific things to say or not say, and I’m afraid I can’t speak definitively about how all grieving women want to be talked to. To be honest, I can’t even speak definitively about myself. It varies for me from day to day and sometimes moment by moment.

I remember being with family and friends on Felicity’s 2-month birthday. I was feeling like I wanted to talk about her all day, but no one asked. In those moments, the grieving person is really trapped.

If I bring this up, and steer the conversation away from politics or the weather, am I going to be seen as trying to dominate, or make the conversation all about me, or seen as trying to bring everyone in the group down?

If I bring this up, am I going to make someone else uncomfortable?

If I bring this up, the conversation changes drastically. Is that okay with everyone? Is that socially acceptable in this group right now?

I want to put this forward as a possible rule of thumb based on my own experience:

• More often than not, if you’re close friends with her and are having a one-on-one conversation or if it’s a relaxed group situation and your friend feels pretty safe with the people around, it’s okay to tell her that you’ve been remembering her baby or have been praying for her.
• When she’s in the lobby after church and she’s trying to manage her other children or corral them from the nursery or running through the aisles at the grocery store, it’s probably not the time to bring it up.

The grieving woman lives in a constant paradox—I am no longer the woman I used to be, and therefore, I am not “normal,” but also, I’m just another woman/wife/mother trying to live my life like everyone else.

In your conversations, it can be really refreshing if you help her feel normal. And other times it’s best if you make sure she knows that you are thinking of her special circumstances and have by no means forgotten her or her child.

It doesn’t always have to be a conversation. You can write a card. It can be 2 lines long! It can say something like, “I thought of you and your baby today. You are a good mom to your children.” Don’t worry about it having to be deep or ultra-spiritual. Chances are your friend will feel blessed knowing she’s not alone in remembering her baby (who she thinks of all the time).

I think a lot of people are afraid to bring up their friend’s loss, because they think they’ll set her off or make her cry. Something I’ve said jokingly, but mean with all sincerity is, “My tears are just below the surface. If you make me cry right now, it’s no major accomplishment.”

The grieving woman is well-acquainted with tears. They’re not as scary for her as they may be for you. So if you feel like you might “cause” her to cry, it’s not so much about whether she’s okay with it, but whether you can handle it. Is it okay with you if she cries?

Conversation with your altered, grieving friend can be really hard to navigate. She’s probably feeling out this new navigation thing, too. She’s not normal, but she is normal. If you would’ve gone up and talked to her after a service before her baby died, go up and talk to her after a service now, too.

She may be a minefield, but she probably won’t explode. And even if she does, it’s worth it, right?

(Read other posts in this series.)