If you, like me, struggle with handling grief or comforting a friend coping with loss, hear me out.
I write this for all the emotionally awkward and stunted among us. For the longest time, I was like you. Fading into the background at funeral wakes and not knowing what to say or how to comfort someone. I personally never experienced great loss. I never really thought about how to deal with grief. Sure, a great-granduncle I only saw once a year would occasionally kick the bucket. However, true sadness or real loss? Not until this year.
My personal experience dealing with grief: First, a little backstory
April 29 is the day a piece of my heart died. If you give me an anatomically accurate diagram of a human heart, I can point to where mine stopped working. Imagine an overloaded circuit that short-fuses. That’s how it felt.
The person I lost was like a brother to me. Not in the same way a girl with numerous guy friends uses the blanket statement, “Oh, they’re just like brothers to me”. This kid was the closest thing I had, and will ever have, to a brother.
It didn’t start out brotherly, of course. There was hot tension and sparks of romance. It began on the most romantic night of a convent girl’s life: poetry night. A time to showcase the artistic talents of our ELDDS (English language literary drama and debate society) girls, and for the rest of us, to look at boys.
His best friend had a crush on my best friend. So, as far as relationships went, we had to fulfil our duties as designated best friends and also fall in love. That way, we could all marry each other and stay friends forever.
The relationship both started and ended on SMS, possibly because one of us ran out of prepaid credits. It was just shy of two weeks. The next time I met up with his best friend, I was told that my “boyfriend” had migrated! Boy, do I know how to scare them off.
While the romance wilted faster than a plant my husband tries to care for, the friendship grew deep roots. It was one that went through every family woe and every different country he lived in. We’re talking about dead parents, ex-girlfriends, and being broke. We went through the fire together.
I’d like to believe we had telepathy
The last I spoke to my friend was Friday morning. I’d often dream about him, and when I did, it was a sign that things weren’t right in his life. That day, I texted to let him know I dreamt of him. So, where was the fire? He laughed it off, but I could tell he wasn’t himself. Something came over me.
He was like a brother to me, but you don’t often tell your sibling how much they mean to you, how special they are or how much you truly love them. Perhaps even the closest siblings say those things under highly intoxicated circumstances once in a lifetime. Our relationship was no different. Birthday, Christmas and New Year messages occasionally ended with, “I’m always proud of you, love you.”
However, that day was totally out of character for me. I felt compelled to tell him every single feeling I had towards him. I told him how much he meant to me, and how grateful I was to have him as my oldest friend. How I admired him, flaws and all, and what a kind and worthwhile human being he was.
His reply: “Thanks, what’s with the sappy messages?” But he couldn’t hide it. I knew in my bones this would be the last time I’d speak to my brother.
How you check in on someone who’s grieving matters… a lot
It was a sleepless night. I had an on-location radio show the day after at Suntec City – our first live one since the pandemic. While I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss, I put on a happy face. Midway through, my phone started buzzing. It was one of his friends. I knew instantly. Meanwhile, my phone just wouldn’t stop lighting up.
I finally had a break and answered it. What I felt and what I’d known was confirmed. My brother passed. Despite that, I had a live show to do and listeners to entertain. The last thing I needed was to entertain gossip on the subject, but that came nonetheless.
Messages from random friends started flowing in. Many were warped in shock but sent with love. One stood out to me. It was someone who knew of my relationship with my friend. They knew how close we were, yet the message they crafted lacked taste. “Omg, did you hear about…?”
I asked who they’d heard it from but didn’t get a reply. Not that it mattered to me, but it just rubbed me the wrong way. This wasn’t a popular celebrity. It was a real person we both knew, met, spoke to, and shared laughs with. To receive a message worded in such a careless manner hurt. For a second, once again I was engulfed with the reality of my loss.
To be safe, assume you don’t know the relationship or any details. Try saying, “I heard from someone that you might’ve lost a friend. I really hope they got it wrong, but in case they didn’t, I’m so sorry for your loss and hope you’re doing alright.”
It’s wordy, but you’re covering all the bases: identifying the source, allowing clarification on the matter, and providing emotional support.
Honestly, it really is none of your business
Curiosity is human nature. But unless the family of the person who passed has announced the cause, it really isn’t any of your business. 2022 didn’t just claim my brother; another friend of mine lost her biological brother. Again, the messages poured in, “Did you hear about J’s brother? What happened? You’re close to her, right?”
Perhaps I should allow people more grace. The sudden passing of someone young and lively is tragic, and maybe that’s what causes people to send such insensitive messages.
Instead, respect the privacy of the family. Knowing how a person passed benefits no one but yourself (and the gossip train). Give the person time to process, grief and speak when they’re ready. If you hear it from a friend of a friend, no one will fault you, but that information should stop at you. However, asking the closest people how it happened the second it happened is extremely scarring.
Let loose your emotions in private before going public
The moment it happened, I went off social media for a week to process and stew in my feelings. Quiet frankly, spontaneously crying kept me preoccupied. Especially when I looked at my daughter and knew she’d never meet him again. Or when I laughed at something knowing he’d never laugh again. I started a string of Instagram posts and stories about all the times we had together.
You can’t help but go deep into your archive of photos and videos that you want to share. After my week, I got it out of my system. I felt better. But a couple of days later, one of his friends posted a picture of them together. That set me right off. I realised that my posts, though done to honour my friend’s memory, could actually be triggering to his other friends.
Imagine finally having a good day and actually feeling happy of sorts. But then you get on social media and see a photo of your friend who passed – that brings all those emotions right back to the surface. While everyone heals in different ways, it’s kind to keep in mind that posting spontaneous pictures may serve as devastating reminders.
It’s a learning process and everyone grieves differently
For me, the safest and easiest thing to do is meet the person who’s grieving face to face (if possible) and follow their lead. If they’re fine, don’t intrude. If they’re visibly down and withdrawn, it might be a good idea to take them out for a meal or coffee.
Ultimately, there’s no “correct” way of dealing with such a painful situation. This is just my personal experience and the realisations I had. Next up, maybe I’ll write about what not to say to someone who’s had a miscarriage. I told you, 2022 hasn’t been kind to me.
If you need to talk to a professional, do reach out to counselling centres in Singapore for help.
