Bits of Advice If Your Friend Is Going Through the Death of a Partner
I was thinking about what advice I would give to people whose friend has suffered a horrific, traumatic grief experience like Daniel and I did. I mean, it’s fucking awful. It’s like the ground disappears from beneath you or you have just been thrown into some alternative reality. It’s the thing you don’t know exists, until it does and you are dealing with something you never thought of, never dreamed of and never in any way wanted to visit your world.
So do I have advice? Well yes and no, I’m only looking at things from our perspective, and there’s probably lots of great advice out there, but this, these are my bits.
Checking In
My first point is that at the start, check in every day or every couple of days, just to make sure they’re literally okay and that they’re actually eating and drinking.
I’m someone who drinks quite a bit of water, and I think I consumed hardly any liquid for the first few days, apart from the odd cup of tea. I couldn’t actually get liquid into me. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to drink; I just couldn’t actually drink.
During the first few days, food is the last thing you think about. You may not be eating at all. There’s a part of you that is just dealing with something traumatic. You have no appetite, but you need something to eat.
With Daniel and me, I don’t remember exactly. We might have had a slice of toast on the day it happened, and then the day after, we weren’t really much better.
Friends brought us ready meals. We could microwave them. I remember the two of us sitting over a marksies lasagne. We didn’t even take it out of the plastic or anything. We sat there with two forks, trying to eat, and we could barely eat. I could only manage a few mouthfuls, but at least it was something that kept us going.
So I would say: make sure your friends are getting fed. Food is the very last thing they are thinking about.
As time goes on, keep checking in. We have friends who are still checking in. It has been about three months now, and I still get a message every week just to see how we are. And this could be a text, nothing big or anything like that.
You really notice that. You notice the people who are still doing it and who are trying to keep you active in their minds. That is a lovely, lovely feeling.
Don’t Just Say, “Just Ask”
People say, “If you need anything, just ask. Don’t be afraid.” There is good meaning behind that, but most people are brought up not to ask and not to be looking for things from other people. You don’t really want to do it unless you really, really need that kind of help.
It is very hard to ask people for help. You know they have busy lives. They have work, families and their own dramas.
I’ll give you an example.
Bowie is our Labrador and, in the midst of everything, to put it mildly, he had a funny bottom and needed to visit the vet. It was about five weeks after Darren passed away, and we were still up the left, barely organised in our day. Oh, and I don’t drive!
I didn’t want to ask people, especially as Bowie is a madhead in a car, whinging and digging. I put up a request on Nextdoor and Facebook for dog taxi services and phoned around a few suggested services, but either they didn’t cover where we lived or they didn’t provide what we needed.
I eventually asked a friend to help. It was literally the only option I had left. He was wonderful and came to get us as soon as he could, but I was in tears by the time he arrived. I went to the vet in tears because it was such a hard job having to sort out the dog in the midst of everything.
You see, those grieving, they are literally surviving, and dealing with small things can be incredibly overwhelming.
So my second point is to check with your friend to see whether they are having any problems getting children places, taking dogs to the vet, having oil delivered or dealing with any of the other mundane things that can become too much. If you want a practical way to work out what your friend needs and organise people to take on specific jobs, see What Can Other People Do for Me?.
If Yer Going to the Shop…
My third point, and I have had these offers, and they are brilliant, is that if you are going to the shop, ask your friend if they need anything or if they need to go with you.
Even if you are already out at a shop, check whether they need anything.
Don’t underestimate the small things that people may need. They are trying to find their way in the darkness and small things can seem insurmountable.
Things Have Changed
My fourth point is not to expect someone who is in the middle of grief to be able to go and do things they ordinarily wouldn’t have had a problem doing. Even meeting someone in a public place can be difficult.
I’m doing a bit better now, but even last week, when I was in the local chemist, I managed to get all teary just collecting medication. Doing anything on your own can be traumatic.
For me, going to a big concert is something I just couldn’t do now. Partly because we were music fans, but also because of being surrounded by swathes of people. We had tickets to see IDLES this week, and there was just no way I could go.
I would love to see them. Darren bought me the tickets for Christmas, but I just couldn’t go. ‘People-ing’ is incredibly hard when you are in the depths of grief.
The Comparison
Okay, so this is about unexpected grief and the grief of losing a partner, like what happened with Darren.
When I was very young, my father passed away. I was 13. Then, nine months later, my granda passed away. Dealing with death back in the 1980s was something you did on your own and by yourself. I was no age but it definitely shaped my outlook on the world.
Four years ago, my mother passed away. Although she was 90, it was still traumatic, grief-filled and sad, just like those other family deaths. It took me the guts of a month to get my head back into some sort of normality and return to work. And then there were miscarriages, and things of a sad nature that happened over the years. In short, I thought I was a seasoned professional in dealing with things of this nature.
Having now experienced what Daniel and I have experienced, I can say that this grief has affected me in a completely different way from every other loss I have known. Losing Darren is, without question, the most devastating thing I have ever experienced. You may have experienced grief yourself, but don’t assume that you know what this particular loss feels like. I think people don’t realise the depth of what it means when a partner dies. I know I didn’t.
I’m not minimising someone else’s misery, feelings or grief. Someone once said to me that there isn’t such a thing as lesser grief or sorrow, and I realise that. But this wasn’t a death that followed the natural progression of things, it wasn’t meant to be a thing.
Darren was young. He wasn’t ill. There wasn’t any indication that something was wrong. He had lifetimes to go. But mostly, he was my soulmate and best friend.
Darren and I had so many lives together. Living in grotty flats in South Belfast in the 1990s. Living in Brighton in the 2000s. Running our own business. Becoming parents in our thirties. There were just so many lives that we had together, and now those lives are over.
What I have gone through and am still going through, I don’t even think it is possible to describe. Well, I can’t find the words for it at the moment. That’s why I am writing these rambling posts.
Sometimes, simply saying, “I understand,” is slightly better than saying, “God, I know what it’s like. My father died. He was 90, and my mother died a few years later when she was 87.”
So my fifth point is: please don’t assume that having a similar story helps. Sometimes it doesn’t.
Which brings me to my final point.
There Isn’t a Date for When Things Are Okay
My sixth and final point is that you need to be aware of the level of trauma involved in this kind of loss.
Don’t think that after a couple of weeks, your friend might be ready to find new hobbies or new ways of dealing with life. The only new activity Daniel and I developed during the first two months was getting takeaway ramen on a Friday as our comfort food.
Someone told me, in what they believed was a nice way, a sort of ‘Well, it’s a different life now, and you just have to get on with it, that’s the best thing…’
Really?
At six weeks?
Have I done my time?
Is that it?
I think people want to say things they believe are nice and helpful, but they don’t realise how deeply grief like this hits you.
It hits you in the gut.
No, even deeper than that.
It rips your soul apart.
It is all-consuming.
I haven’t reached a point yet when I’m not thinking about Darren during the day.
Well, no. That’s a lie.
I don’t think about him when I’m working. That’s why I like doing client work. It gives my brain a different train of thought. And strangely, when I’m doing something like this, even though I’m talking about him and thinking about him, it doesn’t feel the same as sitting and getting upset about something.
This feels more productive. It feels as though I’m doing something with my time. These are my thoughts. An attempt to help people who might not understand get a better picture of where their friend may be emotionally, and how to try and help them.
Finding Support After the Death of a Partner
If your friend would like to find organisations, groups or other sources of help, visit Support After the Death of a Spouse or Partner.