The right questions

{How the right question makes all the difference}

Scenario One:

You: How are doing?

Me: I’m hanging in there.(Thought bubble—how can I answer that question? I’m still here, I’m trying to do my life...guess that means I’m ok, whatever that means)

You: Good— I imagine it’s been hard. (Thought bubble— guess she doesn’t want to talk about it..whew!)

Scenario Two:

You: Hey Luna. I’ve been thinking about you so much. How’s your grief today?

Me: (pausing to consider how I’m feeling, looking for the words, grateful for the question as hard as it is to answer). I’m so tender. I get hurt by the way people avoid talking to me about hunter and my grieving process. Makes me feel invisible and even more sad. I notice that when there’s no acknowledgment of my loss or the journey it’s taken me on I feel shut out and prefer to be alone rather than lonely in the company of others.

You: That’s a lot to deal with. I wish I could make it easier for you. Is there more?

Me: (seems like you really want to know, that’s so comforting)- yes—I still find it amazing that almost no one has asked me to talk about Hunter. What is this about? I feel ashamed of wanting to tell people about who he was and how I’m experiencing him now. I want to talk about it but am afraid to take up space and that feeling is so familiar, haunting and sad that I try to talk myself out of this need.

You: I’m right here. I want to know more. Do you have energy for that now or should we set another time to talk. I know how important this is and I really want to hear your stories.

Me: crying—speechless— grateful. Thank you. Can we talk more tomorrow? I’m exhausted right now.

You: absolutely. I can talk after 2pm. What works for you? I’ll call you so you don’t have to remember.