“People are hungry for stories. It is part of our own being. Telling stories is a form of history, of immortality as well. It goes from one generation to another.” -Terkel cases
I recently attended my uncle’s funeral, although I found myself making excuses to dismiss my obligation to go. When I read his obituary in the newspaper, I wasn’t going to go to the funeral because I hadn’t seen my cousins in about thirty years (they all lived out of town and so did my uncle). Would they recognize me?
In the end, I decided that I had to attend. Despite the fact that none of my cousins recognized me, only the mention of my name and whose daughter I was born gave birth to the dawn of recognition and removed all the barriers that time had imposed. We chuckled at the fact that we had all “aged a bit” and noted the strong family resemblance that couldn’t be denied.
Funerals and weddings can be described as a time when extended families get together for a mini reunion. In our busy lives, we’ve grown apart from family ties and rarely made an effort to connect, other than the occasional Christmas card or email. But when a funeral or wedding event draws the family home, it can be a time to reconnect with our past and a time to glimpse our future.
Brothers, cousins, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles gather to honor the event. But, the reason for coming often has an even stronger meaning than the ceremonial gathering. It is a time to tell the stories, with pain and joy, of the days gone by and the experiences that led us to this point in our lives. Stories are the interesting portals of life. When told individually, they are just stories, but when intertwined with the threads of everyone’s memories combined, they say a lot about the family legacy.
On my uncle’s visit, the cousins quickly banded together, naming faces in tattered photo albums, and syncing up the forgotten faces of the generations that gave us our roots. We avidly sought a look of good memories and good times, anything that symbolized that we were once more united than we are today. We remember the family, now deceased, and mentally calculate the age of the house or car in the picture, or the time and place where the candid photo was taken. And, after sharing the stories, we hugged and laughed once more. Hours later, each one returned to his life and wondered what would be the next occasion that would unite us. During those brief hours in time, we were reuniting as a family as if it were decades before.
Telling stories is an important part of healing pain. In our Wings © grief education series, we strongly emphasize story preparation that gives the griever in control of whatever details and emotions he or she is willing to reveal. We all know the feeling of being “shocked” when someone asks blunt questions about the death of our loved one or says something that empties our emotional reservoir of tears.
Plan your story and know what you want to say before you start. It is human nature to want to share the stories of life (and death) with someone who will listen to you, but at first you may find it difficult to blurt out even the “short” version of your loved one’s death. Be prepared to say enough to answer immediate questions. Nothing more is expected. Over time, you will become more comfortable sharing the details with trusted friends and family. If necessary, practice telling your story, because you will be asked over and over again, both at the funeral and in the months that follow. Take every opportunity to tell your story because repetition makes it easier and ultimately that is what helps heal the pain.
Your story must answer basic questions and can be told through pictures and elements, as well as words. These are some of the things I have learned over the years from telling the story of Chad.
Plan your response to sensitive questions.
Your story should answer: “What happened? How did he die?” This can be a short or long answer, whichever is more comfortable for you. It is likely to vary depending on who is asking the question. When death is natural or anticipated, we may find it easier to tell the story. You may feel some relief that the suffering is over or that life was well lived. (But this does not negate our need to cry.) When a death was sudden or unexpected, the bereaved can be very excited about the details. Some people may be curious and seek more information than you are willing to share, so plan to avoid a defensive reaction to innocent comments that seem insensitive. People sometimes speak without thinking about what their comment might sound like, and we react.
When our son, Chad, died as a result of suicide, I was very sensitive to this social taboo. I winced when someone asked me what happened, wishing I didn’t have to answer. When I was not comfortable, I subtly dismissed the question and offered “other” information. People don’t often push for details when you do that. Know what makes you uncomfortable and plan your story so that you can minimize touching your emotional reserve, even if it means not answering a few questions or giving very brief details.
Reveal the passions and strengths of the person who died. Your story should answer: “What was it like?” The stories celebrate the life of the person who died; and sometimes “things” tell the most obvious story. Reveal your loved one’s passion for what was important to him. Maybe it was golf, woodworking, music, gardening, a job, sewing, volunteering, or being a sports fan, whatever reminds you of him. Bringing memories of these special moments to the funeral gives visitors and family a glimpse of the phases of life and fills in the gaps where words fall short. For some, the years have passed with little contact, and it is a comforting feeling to see what gave the deceased meaning and purpose.
Validate relationships. Your story should answer: “Our relationship was …” or “He talked about the time when you …” Describe your relationship: “We were very close. I will miss him. He was my best friend.” Or validate your relationship with others. Everyone likes to know that their relationship with the deceased was recognized, even in a small way. Posting photos of family and friends with the person who died tells its own story and creates a lighthearted conversation on a visit. But the family can also validate relationships by telling a person that their loved one talked about him or her in a positive way. Telling a story you know connects your listener with the deceased. Friends and family will often respond with a similar story.
Never underestimate the scope of relationships. When my father died at the age of seventy-nine, we thought his circle of friends was quite small. We were astonished when dozens and dozens of people came to visit. Some had known him through the billiard league (billiards), others through his bartending job. People in their twenties and eighties came to recognize their relationship with my father.
Encourage the imagination. Your story should answer: “I remember the time when …” Everyone is comfortable with a good laugh or an adventure story. Tell humorous tales of human error or reveal stories of risks taken, achievements made, and dreams forgotten. When telling your story, look for ways to stimulate the listener’s imagination so that they can visualize exactly what you are saying. We live indirectly through the stories of others.
Some of your best stories will come from people who came to pay their respects and share a memory with you. The night of Chad’s visit, my husband took a photo that was among our son’s belongings from an Army National Guard training in Utah a few months earlier. Chad appeared in the photo with three officers, but we did not know the story that accompanied the photo. When the officers who attended his funeral saw the photo, they finished the funny story behind the mischievous smile that Chad wore. This story has been an important part of our memories since that day and reminds us that everyone loves a story and life stories are priceless.
Pause, reflect and connect . Your story should answer: “So what is the connection?” We all try to make connections with other people that make us feel good. We want to relate to the challenges, frustrations, and ups and downs of life. We want to deposit these stories in our memory of known people, places visited, things learned and experiences lived. We connect with joy (weddings, births, celebrations) and we connect with pain (loss, defeat, illness, difficult times). We can react with a lump in the throat, a tear in the eye or a laugh from deep inside. We are spiritual beings who have human experiences, trying to find meaning in life and death. We are creating our own life story.
Your story can establish a connection with the soul. It is also the time that allows you to slow down your racing heart, regain your composition, and honor someone special. Stories are about remembering. Our son died many years ago and his story continues to evolve. In my book, I have a tribute that says, “Because I loved him, I remember him. Because I remember, he will never die.”
Your story is a gift. When you tell it, it reveals your love and the soul connection you have with the person who died. Nothing is more sacred or more respected than the memory that endures. Stories, whether you tell them or hear them from someone else, are the windows to the heart. The emerging hope redefines you. You are who you are, in part because of your relationship with the person who died. Stories of a life lived can enrich and bless you and the lives of those still living.
Connect with your inner psyche; breath deeply; take it easy. This is your moment, your moment to tell the story, with pain and joy. Each one becomes part of your life diary.
