The Art of Presence | Cup of Jo (2024)

I remember one woman took my hand when our 2 year old son died and said, ‘look on the bright side, you have one less mouth to feed’! It felt like someone slapped me. I have started a blog about death at http://www.deathiswhat.com and would love to have your comments.

This is a great post. I think it’s important for everyone to be reminded to be kinder and more understanding, even if they’re already kind and understanding.
Also: your blog is beautiful! I’m excited to be a new follower!
xoxo – Amy
glitterinmytea.blogspot.com

Yes please! My first is 3 months old and I love reading your blog as a ‘what to expect’ and ‘what to cherish’ advisory

I read this in 2 minutes and I think I’m a better person now. So valuable. Thanks so much for this thoughtful post.

Love that you dealt with grief on your blog — you’re helping to overcome the stigma of talking about it! I lost my brother 5 years ago when I was 26 and he was about to turn 32. I often think of an adage someone told my parents…”Don’t tell me I’ll turn the corner; the building is round.” It’s so true — loss doesn’t go away, it ebbs, flows, evolves over time.

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This is beautiful. A perfect way to describe how to act towards someone going through something traumatizing.

Also I meant to write that when I lost my first child (stillborn) – the only stories that helped me were from those that also had the same kind of loss. I think it was because i had no idea how many people i knew also had stillborns (neighbors, aunts, great aunts) – no one wants to ever talk about it – it’s practically taboo. Anyway, it made me feel less alone – more connected and hopeful for the future.

This article is so beautiful and insightful. I lost my mom 2 years ago and was also struck by how often people seemed afraid to bring her up. I often wanted to scream “I am not fragile! Stop being so scared!” it’s very isolating. What I found to be most therapeutic and loving were the moments when friends cried with me. It’s so comforting.

Acknowledging the loss even if you think it’s too late to say something. It’s never too late.

When we lost our first born son when he was only two days old some people were terrible….but two of the most helpful things immediately was someone who would call/email and tell other people what happened so we could avoid folks seeing my small belly and thinking we had a healthy baby (and saying congratulations unfortunately it still happened). It was also helpful immediately to have someone who would pick up and bring over family coming over from the airport or out of town. In the long term, my “builders” are my friends who remember my child’s birthday, ask what I remember about him or my pregnancy and include him in my kid count now that I have had more children. Those mean more to me now because it is like they acknowledge that how ever short he lived and I am his mother who will remember him every single day or hour forever…he is STILL part of our family and I need to talk about him all the time even though it just didn’t happen this instant.

Thanks for this post, Jo. I am currently trying to be there for the friend I hold dearest and it’s so important to read articles like this. Sometimes I think the world is such a dark place, the awful grief and trauma people go through. We can only try our best to be there.

I have lost several people in my life – my dad to a murder and a lot of friends to cancer. The one thing that I encourage is to continue to talk about them. When my dad died we all would tell stories (as he was quite the character) and it never failed to cheer us up and make us laugh. A few people I know didn’t even acknowledge when my dad was killed as it made them uncomfortable…please don’t do that either…acknowledge the loss and give your love and support…Great post! xxoo

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My mom died suddenly when I was 17. I had a few friends who were so uncomfortable they didn’t know what to say or do (we’re all babies at 17 so of course they didn’t know what to do!). But I had one friend who just showed up and listened and sat with me – no expectations, no need for words. She was just there & let me be – and most of the time that being was just really really sad. She got me through the worst of it, by simply being there with me.

My Grandmother died the day before a 5k that I had signed up for. Because I didn’t want to be alone and because I knew my grandmother would want me to show up and finish, I ran the entire thing. After the race my friends surrounded and hugged me, but one particular friend asked me to described to them the things that my grandmother loved- what she enjoyed most in life. That has always stood out in my mind, because it brought my attention not to how I felt or the sadness of it, but instead the joys of her life. I will always remember that.

Thanks for this link. I lost my mom at age 18 and can’t stand it when people say their moms are overbearing, or when they suffer a loss, “Is this like when your mom died?” NO! Also helping my dad since he was diagnosed with early onsite dementia (but doesn’t believe that he has it!) and I just cannot imagine what it must be like for some of these 30 something people whose parents do everything for them. [End rant] Anyway, thanks!

I read this, went back and read the NYTimes article and then over to Sojourners and read the original piece. Thanks for sharing.

I couldn’t agree more with these. My roommate is an extreme introvert and spends much of her time at home in her bedroom with the door closed. When I experienced a great loss, she asked me what I needed and at that moment, all I needed was for her to sit with me and not close her bedroom door when she was in there. It’s amazing how much simple presence can comfort.

very interesting, especially don’t compare as I think I have done that, but trying to make someone feel like you have been there and it sounds like it isn’t a good way of empathising

Great advices on a never easy topic. Caroline

When my dad died suddenly a year back, a good friend at the time could barely speak to me or look me in the eye, I was so hurt. I had great respect for other friends and acquaintances who came straight out asked about it, about me, the family, however hard it was, I really appreciated it.

Thank you. I unexpectedly and suddenly lost my Mom a week ago today. As I read this I know we will be forever changed and I hope you don’t mind that I re-post this lovely sentiment. Thank you.

Thank you. I unexpectedly and suddenly lost my Mom a week ago today. As I read this I know we will be forever changed and I hope you don’t mind that I re-post this lovely sentiment. Thank you.

I lost my mom in April. I don’t remember much from the wake but I do remember a family friend who had also lost her mom came up to me and said “There’s nothing I can say right now. This sucks and I’m sorry and I love you.” And then she hugged me. I’ll never forget that.

I’m not sure I can add much to all the comments already. But- I did find when I went through my losses that people started sharing with me their own. Not in a comparative way but to let me know they truly understood. That was really helpful. Sometimes I knew about their experiences before my own but boy, I did not understand. Not really. The comments today remind me again that I, and we, are not alone.

Thanks so much for posting this! What great advice. My fiance’s grandmother recently passed away and it was amazing the different reactions he (we) got from friends/family. I especially love “Do be a builder”. It’s too easy to be flighty and get recognition. I think most people notice those who put in the work.

When my father died, my husband called my friends and family to let them know. He knew that it was hard for me to even say the words out loud. Because of his efforts everyone knew about his memorial service- which was standing room only.

Joanna,
Thank you for this post. My husband and I recently lost a pregnancy at 21 weeks, a baby boy which we had prayed for and prepared for. I find that friends, family, acquaintances often don’t know what to say, or don’t want to bring it up out of fear of upsetting me. Which is okay, sometimes there isn’t anything to say. But the comment I appreciated the most was from a friend at work, who stopped me at a time when we were alone, and said to me, “I heard what happened, I know that you had planned for this baby and had wanted to meet him so badly. I don’t want to upset you, and we don’t have to talk about it, but I wanted to acknowledge it and let you know that I’m so sorry.” I felt thankful that she was brave enough to bring it up and acknowledge what had happened – I had been internalizing my grief at work, hesitant to burden someone else with it. But she lifted some of the weight off of my shoulders. Simple words, but incredibly meaningful.

We just lost our little girl 3 weeks ago and I wish that everyone we knew would read this article. Thank you for sharing.

Sixtet’s comment is heartless and insensitive, but hopefully you know that. There are so many beautiful and insightful comments here. I am reminded of a passage in a book I read years ago about the experience of infertility. The author had just had a miscarriage and was in the hospital, alone in her room, crying, when an LPN came in to take her vital signs. Seeing that her patient was in tears, and knowing what had happened, she sat down on the bed, put her arm around her grieving patient, and said “Ain’t nothing no one can say to you now gonna make you feel any better, so you just go on and cry.” And she sat there with her, holding her, letting her cry. Can there possibly be any better way to comfort a grieving friend?

In May I was admitted to the hospital with gut-wrenching, screaming-in-agony pain and four days later I awoke to a jagged incision running from just under my rib cage to the top of my pubic bone. To learn that I had nearly died, had emergency surgery, and was missing a piece of my insides was the most traumatic thing I have ever had to go through. For the next five months I recovered at home – both physically and emotionally. People I had thought were close friends disappeared from my life and others made comments like “Wow, you’re taking a long time to recover – what’s wrong with you?” to “Cheer up! My husband’s co-worker tried to commit suicide.” Only my immediate family and a handful of friends stayed in touch, monitoring my progress, visiting me, and helping me through the dark times. Now, as I start living in the “new” normal, I can identify the people who are worth having in my life. And I know that I will never, ever, ever compare – I will just be there. Thank you Joanna for posting this article and creating a community where your readers can share their stories. It helps to know I am not alone.

This is a great post! So many people say NOTHING for fear of saying the wrong thing. It’s really helpful to give folks pointers of how to help the grieving. Thank you!

Thank you so much for find this wonderful article! I love the empathetic message and feel that it can be applied to a broad range of situations, not only in times of comfort.

When my family was going through a tragedy many people asked what they could do to help and I found that exhausting. When you’re just trying to survive the hour, the day, it’s hard to figure out what you need. If people you love are experiencing tragedy, don’t ask just do. I guarentee it will be appreciated.

Joanna, This post is one of the many examples why I love your blog so much. Always such thoughtful things that really come from the heart. When my grandfather passed away, my two best friends asked if I wanted them to come to his service. I told them no and that it was nice of them to ask, but that I would be ok. They both came. I will never forget that. Having them there meant the world to me. Showing up whenever possible to be there for the ones you love is so important.

I lost my mother and it was the hardest thing I’ve gone through so far in my life. What a well-written article. I find talking about the loss of my best friend and caring mother helps me most. I cry and laugh and get all of my emotion out and then I feel better. No one will replace her and I miss her every single day but the deep pain I felt when I first lost her is slowly getting better as time goes by.

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I read this, too. It is so well written. I try to be more like he suggests. Having grieved unbearable loss, I know that sometimes just having a warm body nearby is all that is needed to lighten some of the pain.

I love that reflection your mom made. Very sweet.

Hi Joanna…thanks sooo much for sharing this article. My mom died when I was 12 and my brother committed suicide 8 years ago. With my mom, it was so sudden and I was pretty young so for years I didn’t really open up about it until I was in university.
When my brother died, one of my friends took the Greyhound bus and traveled two and a half hours to spend the weekend with me. She sat with me and hugged me while I cried. I was in a daze for weeks after and my emotions switched back and forth between anger to sadness. I’ve finally come to terms with it and blogging has helped.
A lot of my friends haven’t lost a parent or sibling so it can be difficult to talk about it with them. But I do have one close friend who lost his mom so we’re able to talk to each other about it whenever we’re having a down moment. It makes all the difference to be able to talk to someone who understands what you’re going through.
After my brother died, a lot of friends would bring tons and tons of food by the house. This was really appreciated because when you’re trying to get over the shock of it all, eating/cooking is the last thing on your mind.
Thanks again for sharing this, Jo! – Donna

Ashley Woodiwiss was a professor of mine in undergrad–a truly thoughtful, gentle man, and though I had heard about his first daughter, I was unaware of their family’s most recent tragedy. Thanks for posting this, Jo. I had a late-term miscarriage a couple of years ago, and can relate to the line in the article about how they were disoriented by those who weren’t there. Equally so, we were also blown away by the kindness of those we didn’t expect. I have vowed to always be the latter. This is a great reminder.

I lost my mom suddenly, five years ago when I was 20. It was completely devastating to me and really taught me who was there for me. Most people ‘forgot’ within that first month. But I didn’t. I think of her daily and am now in a better place where I can mention and talk of her in regular conversations, and hear others talk about her as well, without breaking down all over the place. I still can’t handle talk of her actual death or suffering — just too sad.

benrho98: “She would even sleep in my bed next to me when I couldn’t bear the stillness of night.” that is so, so sweet.

these comments are so enlightening. it’s so fascinating and moving to hear your stories.

sixtet, it’s not original content, actually; some of my posts are original and some are reposts. this is the latter. totally fine blog etiquette to repost an excerpt and credit and link to the original source for the full read. (see blogs like kottke, swissmiss, etc.) in fact, if you take a look, david brooks’s new york times column actually was reposting another blog post by a woman about her family’s grief. so no worries there, thank you!

Thank you for this post. I really appreciate it because it gives us insight into a way we can care for others, which is something we too easily forget in our busy lives.
Also – living here in Australia, I don’t always read the New York Times. I’m so glad you shared this article. And. It is not sloppy at all, by any means.

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This is a lovely post. My hubby (who is a Chaplain) wrote about a similar topic today: http://goo.gl/1nlnRs

What a beautiful article and such an important reminder. Thanks for posting!

So true. Especially resonating is the idea that you dont want to mention the elephant in the room for fear of hurting the person further; but when my grandpa died all I wanted to do was talk about him, and remember all of the things he’d said and done. Like the article mentioned, the grieving are going to be thinking about it, so might as well provide a comforting environment to talk freely about the good memories and then be a shoulder to cry on.

My husband’s aunt was giving us a house tour when we came to visit and she had the most beautiful historic old house in NY. We came to her office and there were many very cool older political activist banners and pictures of when our aunt and uncle were young. I was really enjoying looking at all of them when I came across a bulletin board of their daughter who died suddenly at the ago of 11 (same age as my husband at the time) and there were the most beautiful momentos of her life and writings from her in school at that age. It brought tears to my eyes and as we were leaving later that day, our aunt pulled me aside and said she wanted to thank me. Thank me because she said nobody ever wants to talk about her daughter or acknowledge that she was alive and she could tell that I really took the time to see and appreciate the things on the board related to her. It was such a powerful moment. I had never thought of that before but will never ever forget it.

Thank you for sharing this. I lost my father about a year and a half ago when I was a senior in college, and something that consistently makes me feel a lot better is when friends or family share when they’re missing my dad. I know I think of my Dad every day, but don’t like bringing up the topic with others because I don’t want to be responsible for making someone else think of something “sad”. When someone voluntarily brings it up, it’s such a relief because I know they’re in the mood to talk about him. It means so much when someone is willing to have that kind of conversation.