As I mentioned in my last Blog post, if your loved one is dying you may be going through a whole lot of emotions (guilt, anger, frustration, sadness…), feeling overwhelmed with questions (of what to say, how to act, wondering what will happen), and stressing about responsibilities and another concerns (finances, career, family…).
Here are some ideas to help you cope.
1) Learn as much as you possibly can (the more you know about what you’re facing, the better you can face it):
- …About your loved one’s disease, prognosis, and treatment.
- Learn how to provide care and manage stress.
- Ask questions.
- Read articles and books.
- Network with others.
2) Go easy on yourself (the more accepting you are of yourself, the more tolerant you’ll be of those around you, including the one who’s so ill):
- Give yourself time to adjust to all the changes.
- Pace yourself daily.
- Be lenient in your self-expectations.
3) Try to be aware that this is only temporary.
- It may seem that this crisis will never end…or that life will always be sad…or that you’ll be forever hurt by what’s happening. Those thoughts are understandable but the distress you feel will one day subside.
- Life’s joy can return.
- You’ll be shaped and changed by what you’re going through, yet the changes don’t have to be only negative.
- You can grow from this experience. You may not want to read that right now, but it’s true.
Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
Read an excerpt now
TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James
It hardly seems possible.
It hurts.
It hurts to see them go through what they’re going through.
It hurts that you cannot protect them, that you cannot change their outcome.
It hurts to feel all that you feel.
It feels as if a part of you is dying too.
You have so many questions:
- What will life be like without them?
- What will happen to me in the future?
- What will become of our relationship?
- What will I say to that person?
- What will I talk about?
- What should I not talk about?
- How should I act?
- What can I do that will best help them?
- And how can I best help myself?
Not only are you about to lose an important relationship…you’re probably being forced to make major changes in your life.
Change does not come easy.
In addition to dealing with all your emotions, you may be facing a host of disruptions in your daily life and other responsibilities clamoring for your attention.
What is happening to the one you love may cause you pain. Their disease may make them uncomfortable. Their treatments may make them sick. Their dying may make them very sad. You may witness changes in them that are hard to accept, or you may experience changes in your relationship that concern you, or hurt you, or mystify you.
In my upcoming Blog posts I’ll share some ideas for coping and I’ll also share general rules for how people will react when they are dying.
Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
Read an excerpt now
TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James
Imagine helping a friend on a journey to a remote monastery perched on top of a mountain. As you begin your trip, the path is fairly clearly marked and the goal easily seen in the distance. But as you approach, the tops of trees in the forests through which you pass often obscure the monastery. And you say, “If only we could get out of this woods, we would be able to see the monastery again and see where we’re going.” And as you continue the climb, the path fades and much is accomplished by guesswork. You call on your friend for help. After all, this is his trip and he should know what he’s doing. But he becomes older and weaker and relies more on you moment by moment.
Things get worse. You lose the path and you are tired and hungry. But, he cannot proceed alone and you can’t leave him on the mountain while you return to the warmth and safety of home. So, you find a new reserve of strength, enough for both of you, and you continue up the mountain, for now it is your journey, as well. You look at yourself anew and find that you have gown older, become more mature like your friend, and you accept this as part of the mutual trip. And in accepting your role as guide you find that you are guided, that your friend, whose legs have crumpled beneath him by now, offers you wellsprings of courage and hope. You drink deeply, for you realize that if either of you are to make it to the top, it will need both of you guiding and supporting the other in ways constantly changing and unimaginable.
One day when you least expect it, the heavy cedar gates of the monastery are suddenly dead ahead. The trip had become the whole purpose, it seemed, and the monastery forgotten. But there it stands: Your friend’s objective has been reached The door opens to admit your friend and, as if you had performed the ritual many times before, you hand your friend over the threshold. The door closes, and you stand there numb, alone, bewildered.
Out of habit you continue walking. It doesn’t seem to matter in what direction, for each of the possible paths lead back down from the mountain.
The trip down seems easier than the trip up was. The mountain holds few surprises, now, and there is ample time to sit and ponder before reaching the valley below. And somehow in reviewing the trip with your friend, its moments of desperation and fear are overshadowed by the times of giving and accepting, of sharing and journeying together. Memories of the monastery fades and in its place stand crystal images of points along the upward trek. There was the time you picked him up and carried him across the rocks when his strength failed. And there was the time when you slipped and lost your grasp, but he held you up and supported you with the power of his mind. There was something special in those moments, something, which if you could string all of those images together in just the right order, that then, maybe then, you would understand.
As it is, you return to the valley a different person, quieter and stronger, knowing only that you have been a part of something…holy. This friend shared with you his most personal possession, his death. And though you can’t quite comprehend its true value, you find yourself hoping that you will have the ability to fully experience and share your final journey with another wayfarer to whom you can pass on crystal images.
Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
Read an excerpt now
TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James
Here is a beautiful story that was recently passed on to me (thanks Marlene), and is circulating around the Internet. I don’t know who the author is:
I put my carry-on in the luggage compartment and sat down in my assigned seat. It was going to be a long flight. “I’m glad I have a good book to read. Perhaps I will get a short nap,” I thought.
Just before take-off, a line of soldiers came down the aisle and filled all the vacant seats, totally surrounding me. I decided to start a conversation.
“Where are you headed?” I asked the soldier seated nearest to me.
“Petawawa. We’ll be there for two weeks for special training, and then we’re being deployed to Afghanistan.”
After flying for about an hour, an announcement was made that sack lunches were available for five dollars. It would be several hours before we reached the east, and I quickly decided a lunch would help pass the time…
As I reached for my wallet, I overheard a soldier ask his buddy if he planned to buy lunch. “No, that seems like a lot of money for just a sack lunch. Probably wouldn’t be worth five bucks. I’ll wait till we get to base.”
His friend agreed.
I looked around at the other soldiers. None were buying lunch. I walked to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a fifty-dollar bill. “Take a lunch to all those soldiers.” She grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly. Her eyes wet with tears, she thanked me. “My son was a soldier in Iraq; it’s almost like you are doing it for him.”
Picking up ten sacks, she headed up the aisle to where the soldiers were seated. She stopped at my seat and asked, “Which do you like best – beef or chicken?” “Chicken,” I replied, wondering why she asked. She turned and went to the front of plane, returning a minute later with a dinner plate from first class.
“This is your thanks.”
After we finished eating, I went again to the back of the plane, heading for the rest room.
A man stopped me. “I saw what you did. I want to be part of it. Here, take this.” He handed me twenty-five dollars.
Soon after I returned to my seat, I saw the Flight Captain coming down the aisle, looking at the aisle numbers as he walked. I hoped he was not looking for me, but noticed he was looking at the numbers only on my side of the plane. When he got to my row he stopped, smiled, held out his hand and said, “I want to shake your hand.” Quickly unfastening my seatbelt I stood and took the Captain’s hand. With a booming voice he said, “I was a soldier and I was a military pilot. Once, someone bought me a lunch. It was an act of kindness I never forgot.” I was embarrassed when applause was heard from all of the passengers.
Later I walked to the front of the plane so I could stretch my legs. A man who was seated about six rows in front of me reached out his hand, wanting to shake mine. He left another twenty-five dollars in my palm.
When we landed I gathered my belongings and started to deplane. Waiting just inside the airplane door was a man who stopped me, put something in my shirt pocket, turned, and walked away without saying a word. Another twenty-five dollars!
Upon entering the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering for their trip to the base.
I walked over to them and handed them seventy-five dollars. “It will take you some time to reach the base. It will be about time for a sandwich.
God Bless You.”
Ten young men left that flight feeling the love and respect of their fellow travelers.
As I walked briskly to my car, I whispered a prayer for their safe return. These soldiers were giving their all for our country. I could only give them a couple of meals. It seemed so little.
A veteran is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to ‘Canada’ for an amount of ‘up to and including my life.’
That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it.
Please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our troops around the world.
“Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them as they protect us. Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of need. Amen.”
Of all the gifts you could give a Marine, Soldier, Sailor, Airman, & others deployed in harm’s way, prayer is the very best one.
Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
Read an excerpt now
TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James
There ARE stories of survival in Haiti (after Tuesday’s earthquake):
…The thirteen-year-old girl named Bea who heard cheers of joy when she was pulled from the rubble (sadly the bodies of four members of her family lay nearby).
…A trapped security worker pulled from beneath the rubble of the United Nations compound after a 15-member rescue squad worked for five hours using a jack hammer and buckets to remove blocks of concrete and debris.
… Survivors pinned beneath buildings using their hands and whatever tools they could find.
…In the absence of heavy machinery to clear the debris, residents using their hands and brawn to lift large slabs of concrete with some trapped victims punching out bricks themselves and trying to squeeze through cracks in the fallen structures.
Tara Livesay, one of the directors for World Wide Village writes, “When the quake hit it took many seconds to even process what was happening. The house was rocking back and forth in a way that I cannot even begin to describe. It felt fake. It felt like a movie. Things were crashing all over the house. It felt like the world was ending. I do not know why my house stands and my children all lie sleeping in their beds right now. It defies logic and my babies were spared while thousands of others were not.
“The horror has only just begun and I beg you to get on your knees — I truly mean ON YOUR KNEES and pray for the people of this country. The news might forget in a few days – but people will still be trapped alive and suffering. Pray. Pray. Pray. After that – PLEASE PRAY,” she appeals.
Click here to visit Tara’s Blog and keep updated on what’s happening in Haiti.
Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
Read an excerpt now
TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James
“I never got to say goodbye to my aunt.
“I was living far away when she died, and I had no means of attending her funeral. Sometimes it’s even difficult for me to believe that she is gone. As time goes by, and my life changes and special events come and go, I feel a pang of grief and a yearning for the ability to share things with her, knowing she would be involved if she were alive. Mostly, I feel sad when I want to tell her something and realize I can’t. But there is a way that I can. I’m learning now to write letters as a part of my healing processes, even if they can never be delivered. Finding some way to say goodbye, even if she can’t hear me, at least helps to give me a sense of resolution.”
~Wendy
Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
Read an excerpt now
TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James
During my walk this morning I was preoccupied with thoughts…sorrow over the sudden recent death of my aunt (my Mom’s delightful younger sister who, at age 86, passed away yesterday—like my mother, my aunt has Alzheimer’s but sadly Auntie would get very confused and panicky and couldn’t take it any more so she stopped eating), memories of those sisters singing and laughing together (and that led to other pleasant memories for me), and, somber contemplation of what was happening to my aging parents.
How much time would I have left with them?
I was jolted out of my rather serious reverie by a sweet elderly couple that was placing their recycling bins at the end of their driveway when I approached. With smiles and laughter they acknowledged me (as if I was a long lost friend) and joked about how they didn’t have their bathing suits on to take advantage of all the water that’s piling up on some properties…including theirs (we’ve had A LOT of rain lately instead of snow)!
We chatted for a bit and as I continued on my walk I realized I now had a huge smile on my face…and I couldn’t help it! And it was wonderful.
Here was a couple more concerned about making a connection with another human being rather than living in fear of their house possibly flooding.
I can learn from that.
Despite setbacks and hardships we can always choose to live with hope…and reach out to others with warmth.
Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
Read an excerpt now
TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James
We can learn from Natalie Tjahja, the Indonesian woman who is making the dreams of distressed families come true.
In 2006 Natalie’s seven-year-old daughter Maria Monique died from a lung infection because doctors in Indonesia were not able to treat her.
Tjahja sold everything and flew with her daughter to Singapore for treatment. She soon ran out of money…but the doctors continued to treat Maria Monique. Upon hearing her story, one of the hospital staff contacted the local paper. Donations began to flow in.
One hundred days after her death, as Natalie was pouring rose petals into a river (an Indonesian tradition), she says her daughter came back again with a message.
“Maria Monique, she whispered in my heart. She said, ‘Mom try to find many, many children to give happiness,’ ” Tjahja recalls. “She is like my guidance angel.”
She began with just $50 to fulfill her daughter’s wish. The foundation has since grown into something much bigger. To date the Maria Monique Foundation has helped over 6,000 children—from providing prosthetics and wheelchairs to trips to the mall to coloring books.
And one week into 2010 Natalie simply gave a stroller to Rita Zahara so that Nia, Rita’s daughter living with cerebral palsy, could finally see her friends (and more of the world) for the first time outside of the only room Nia’s ever known.
Just look at how happy Nia is for experiencing such a simple pleasure…a pleasure we take for granted every day!
Click here to learn more about Natalie’s story and her foundation.
Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
Read an excerpt now
TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James
There may be times you want to help a relative or friend who is grieving…but perhaps you don’t know how.
Here is a list of suggestions.
–You could help make phone calls: to relatives and friends, to the doctor or lawyer or accountant, to a child’s school, to a place of employment, to the funeral director, to the social security officer, to a bank or credit union, to the insurance agent…
–You could help with tasks of writing: answering correspondence including letters of condolence, maintaining a list of who has phoned and who wrote notes and who brought gifts…
—You could accompany the bereaved: on professional visits (doctor, lawyer, accountant), for shopping, for errands, to the funeral home, to the cemetery…
—You could help with the car and transportation: transport children to school and activities, act as chauffer for the bereaved family member or friend, take their car in for servicing if it’s needed, help out-of-town guests get to the funeral…
–You could care for the yard: shovel snow, mow the lawn, water the lawn, do gardening…
–You could house sit: during the funeral, if the bereaved needs to leave town…
–You could help with clothing: take care of laundry at your house or theirs, loan clothes for the funeral, deliver and pick up dry cleaning…
–You could help with the bereaved’s children: provide transportation to school, offer to baby-sit, read a story, help with homework, take the child/ren with you when you shop for groceries, offer to take the child/ren with you when your family goes to a movie or to the library or to the park or on other outings…
Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
Read an excerpt now
TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James
Here is a sample letter of condolence you might send a friend (when you knew the deceased):
Dear Mark,
My heart ached this morning when Marie called and I heard the news of Tim’s death.
Words seem so inadequate but this letter comes filled with love and sympathy for the death of your father. I loved him too.
He was dearly loved by everyone whose life he touched, but for me he was more –he was like a second father. He was a rare source of wisdom, and through his guidance the possibilities of my life grew.
As I write, I’m flooded with memories of conversations I had with Tim—how he encouraged me to finish writing my 500-page book (he knew what an emotional process it was at times) and how he spoke so fondly of you, his only son (he was very proud of you).
I know this is a difficult time for you and I want you to know you have my friendship and sympathy. I’ll call you tomorrow around 6pm and help make arrangements for out-of-town guests (I have room for a few people and I can help transport people to the funeral).
My prayers and thoughts are with you,
Melanie
Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
Read an excerpt now
TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James