As some of you know, I lost a student recently. I can't say that I knew her well - she was a tutoring student, and we'd only met for a few hours, but she was bubbly and intelligent and it's a tragedy. Getting the news from her mother brought up feelings from my brother's death and a desire to do or say something meaningful. In the end, I just told her mother than I would handle things as much as possible with our office and sent a handwritten sympathy card. I wish I could do more.
No one ever truly knows what to say in this situation. People didn't know when my brother died, and I can't say that I know now. Things that I would say that are meant to comfort may strike others as judgment. So many of our responses are cliches. I encourage those wondering what to say to listen to this podcast about Stuff Christians Say When People Die.
But as someone from a family who has been through this, perhaps I have some perspective. This is what I can offer. I hope it helps.
1. Welcome to the club of people To Whom the Unimaginable is Now Imaginable
Perhaps you were already a member - I don't know your life story. Some people have been through terrible tragedy before this. If you weren't, though, your child dying, in any way, makes you an automatic member. No parent plans to bury their child; no one plans for their 22-year-old or 17-year-old sibling to pass away. I don't think anyone can imagine mental illness impacting their family (biological or chosen) so deeply. This club is one no one wishes to join, and I would not wish membership on anyone. I will say, though, that when I became a member, my whole perspective changed. I gained compassion I had never known I had. Some relationships strengthened; others faded. Priorities changed. I wish I could say that I found unexpected strength - outsiders to this club may think I have. The truth is, I fell apart. I cried all the time. I had trouble eating. I slept too much. I worried about failing classes. I was just surviving for a time. I am not saying that everything happens for a reason. Or a good reason. This is terrible, and I've never found anything good enough that came out of this that I would trade it for a single hug in this present moment from my beautiful, wonderful brother. I'm saying that this experience will change you. Somehow.
2. It's okay to feel whatever you're feeling
People may ask how you are. True friends will be okay with it if you admit that you don't know how you're going to make it through the next hour, let alone the rest of your life, without this precious loved one who had so many dreams and for whom you wished so much. But some want you to make them feel better by saying that you're fine or repeating some cliche. Know that whatever people think you should feel or you've read in a book or you've heard in a support group, you feel what you feel. That's okay.
3. Stay the amount of "busy" that works for you
Some people will tell you to take a leave of absence from work. Some will say to throw yourself into your work. Only you know how you feel and what you can do. Do what you can, but this is not the time to feel obligated to prove anything to anyone or to allow others' judgment to determine your choices. Grieve how you need to grieve. People told me to stop playing Vanilla Twilight (Owl City) and In Like a Lion (Relient K) on loop because it was making me sadder. They told me to go do things. The truth was that nothing could make me sadder than I felt. Listening to that music helped externalize my feelings and reflect on my brother's life. I got my homework done. I did my graduate assistantship work. But if I had taken a leave of absence or delayed graduation, that was no one else's decision.
4. You may not always wake up and have your first thought be the realization that your loved one is gone, but it will always hurt
My brother has been gone more than two and a half years. I talk about him. A lot. I tell people what happened. I think about things he liked and stuff I want to tell him. I wonder if he would be married by now if he had lived or if he would still be unicycling (of course he would have). My day to day functioning is better than it was, though. I can enjoy some activities, even ones I used to do with him, without feeling a sense of guilt. When something like this happens - losing a student, I mean - it all floods back and I remember the deep pain my family went through, and I know that it will be different for you, but the magnitude of the pain will be the same. I'm not going to say it gets better. It's always hard. But it changes. It gets different. When that happens, and you bring it up without having a meltdown, some people will be surprised or uncomfortable, especially if they are not members of the club To Whom the Unimaginable is Now Imaginable. If talking about it makes you feel better, if you think that people knowing might improve something in some way, tell them anyway. If you hurt and you can't, don't tell them. These don't stop being your choices because a set amount of time has passed.
Maybe this resonates. Maybe you hate me. It's fine either way. You're entitled to your reaction. I won't be offended if you tell me. I won't be upset if you say nothing.
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