Member-only story
If You’re Happy And You Know It, Welcome Adar.
But what if I’m not?
“How are you doing?” So many of you have asked. “I’m so sorry to hear about your loss,” or “How tragic,” so many of you have offered. Especially when you learn that my sister in law, Abby, was just a few days shy of turning 41 when she died. It truly has been heartbreaking.
You are all so kind, and so caring. I am so grateful to feel the warmth of this community who really understands how to comfort the mourner as my family and I make our way through the painful period of sheloshim, the first thirty days of our mourning. We have truly appreciated every call, every text, and every card. From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you.
And yet, when others come to me with loving words, I notice myself trying to be reassuring. When others offer kindness to me, I am tempted to say, ‘it will all be ok.’ Or, ‘it’s going to be alright.’ I find myself trying to temper the sadness, to make a devastating loss ok.
This is not because anyone asked me to, or because it seems like anyone needs my reassurance. It’s just me. I am sure many of you resonate: we are caretakers by nature, we are peacemakers, and problem solvers. We hate for our sadness to bring someone else down.
Why do we do this?
Why do we try to make it ok, when things are seriously not ok?
