What Abi Taught Us (14 page)

Chapter 10

Relationships (and what friends and family can do to help)

AS HUMANS WE ARE
hard wired for relationships, for connection with others.

Years ago, I was watching American TV show
Touch
and was sufficiently struck by the following words to rewind and write them down: ‘Human beings are not the strongest species on the planet, not the fastest or the smartest. The one advantage we have is our ability to cooperate: to help each other out. We recognise ourselves in each other, we are programmed for compassion, for heroism, for love. And those things make us stronger, faster and smarter, that's why we survive.'

In grief, as in so many aspects of our lives (and particularly times of traumatic and adverse events), our relationships with others are vital. A large body of research has accumulated over
the past three decades to indicate how important supportive relationships are for resilience. Numerous studies have shown that social support reduces psychological distress in the aftermath of trauma. For example, children who have best survived child poverty or abuse have usually done so because they found a supportive adult to help them through;
¹
and adults exposed to trauma such as natural disaster, war and assault fare better if they are well supported.
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Similarly, several studies have shown that people with strong social support networks are more unlikely to become depressed than those without such networks. Having even one supportive confidant reduced the risk of depression in half the research subjects following other painful events such as divorce or job loss.

Researchers at the Center on the Developing Child at Harvard University had this to say about resilience: ‘There is no “resilience gene” that determines the life course of an individual irrespective of the experiences that shape genetic expression. The capacity to adapt and thrive despite adversity develops through the interaction of supportive relationships, gene expression, and adaptive biological systems. Despite the widespread belief that individual grit, extraordinary self-reliance, or some in-born, heroic strength of character can triumph over calamity, science now tells us that it is the reliable presence of at least one supportive relationship and multiple opportunities for developing effective coping skills that are the
essential building blocks for the capacity to do well in the face of significant adversity.'
³

As we have seen in
Chapter 3
, Charney and Southwick's interviews with American soldiers imprisoned during the Vietnam War reached the same conclusion. Very few individuals who have managed to demonstrate resilience in the face of trauma have done so alone. ‘Everybody needs a tap code to get through tough times,' says Charney, referring to the POWs' habit of tapping through the alphabet so they could communicate even when detained in solitary confinement. ‘You get enormous emotional strength from relationships and organisations such as MADD [Mothers Against Drunk Driving]. We know lots of advocacy organisations that help patients face cancer—these are incredibly important social networks that can be a safety net during times of stress.'
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A growing number of studies have indicated the importance of social support for successful grieving specifically. Even more sophisticated research methods have shown that certain types of social support are more useful to the bereaved than others. For instance, by studying the emotional wellbeing of recent widows, Toni Bisconti, Cindy Bergeman and Steven Boker revealed that widows seeking ‘emotional support' adjusted more quickly to the loss than widows seeking ‘instrumental support'.
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In other words, in the early stages of bereavement, lending a sympathetic ear proved more helpful than mowing the grieving person's lawns.

Charney and Southwick's studies have indicated the tremendous influence role models can have for resilience. Several bereavement organisations have picked up on this, and now offer online and personal support for those who are grieving. For example, MotherLOVE connects newly bereaved mothers
with those further down the track (
www.motherlove.net
) and the Modern Widows Club (
www.modernwidowsclub.com
) offers mentoring for widows. When I consider role models, I'm reminded of some lines from the reading my sister picked out for our mum's funeral. It comes from Albert Schweitzer, a German theologian, musician and medical missionary who was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1952: ‘I always think that we live, spiritually, by what others have given us in the significant hours of our life. These significant hours do not announce themselves as coming, but arrive unexpected. Nor do they make a great show of themselves; they pass almost unperceived. Often, indeed, their significance comes home to us first as we look back, just as the beauty of a piece of music or of a landscape often strikes us first in our recollection of it.'
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I am reminded of this when I see people who were so significant during those life-changing hours of our life but now have resumed their normal roles. I know I'll never forget the kindness, compassion and generosity they demonstrated, on our behalf, at that vulnerable, terrible time. A tender connection exists with them that, even unspoken, acknowledges what we endured together.

The short story on resilience is that, in the words of one of my favourite professors, the late Chris Peterson, ‘other people matter'. He used this phrase to summarise the findings of decades of research. Bereavement is something to be shared: we need others to discuss our feelings with, to talk openly with, to offer the veritable shoulder to cry on; we need others to keep memories of the dead alive; we need them to listen to us, cook for us, drive us places we cannot be bothered to go.

Our family, friends and wider communities have done so much to help us survive the grief. Living in a small coastal
village, having struggled together through two years of successive earthquakes and the countless disruptions and losses associated with them, with our children having been through the local school, we, and Ella and Sally's family, were held, nurtured, and emotionally and practically supported throughout the weeks and months that followed the girls' deaths. This started the day after the accident, when our dear friend Victoria suggested we gather the girls' friends and families down at the beach so that the kids could comfort each other on hearing the news, and continued with a nightly roster of home-cooked meals for four
months
. Only when I was feeling stronger was this reduced to two nights a week for a further three months. All those meals, cooked and delivered with love—the women who organised it even developed a system for collecting and returning dishes. All we had to do was eat. Thank you, Kerm and Charlie. There was so much practical help: people lending cars for guests staying for the funeral, lots of visitors put up overnight or longer, a camper van delivered to our driveway for spillover guests, and the whole gang who stood up and made the funeral happen when it was something we could not even begin to contemplate. The emotional support is ongoing. I realise how lucky I am to live in a family-focused community where people feel the pain of our loss acutely, and inherently understand that it isn't something we will ‘get over' soon. Their patience and willingness to come with us on this journey has been astonishing.

Being able to discuss concerns, losses and fears with people we love and trust can help lift us out of despair, as well as foster deeper connections. I read a piece in the
Guardian
online in 2015 in which a mother described the loss of her 36-year-old daughter, Kate Gross, to colon cancer, which Kate called ‘the
Nuisance'. ‘It has helped to have the love of family and friends, and the kindness of strangers, the thousands of messages we have received. Because of the Nuisance, we became a much closer family. We bridged the distances that grow between parents and their adult children and came to know and admire Kate and Jo, much more than we would have otherwise. We became part of Oscar and Isaac's daily lives instead of occasional visitors. And we were—and still are—overwhelmed at the way Kate's friends and our own have responded to her illness. I've learned that there is more love in the world than I ever knew and that perhaps all we need to do is learn to ask for what we need,' wrote Jean Gross.
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Her words hold an essential key to grief: that we cannot expect others to know instinctively how to help us, what to say, what to do, when to call and when to leave us alone. If we want them to understand and respect that grieving is an individual process, then they need our help; they need us to guide them and tell them what we need. People are always asking me what helps, what doesn't? In answer to those two questions and following a request from my friend Georgie, below is a list of both.

What can family, friends and colleagues do to help?

Watching loved ones grieve is a painful process that often makes us feel excruciatingly helpless. What friends can do to help depends, of course, on the particular circumstances of the bereaved—who they lost, how it happened, who is left in their lives, and so on. People often respond and relate differently to friends, family members, acquaintances and colleagues in the
aftermath of death. Sometimes a friend's grief can trigger off your own grief experience as you remember those you've lost. Try not to burden them with this, but to be there for them and listen to their grief story and needs.

The most important thing to understand, counsels Thomas Attig, is that each bereavement is different, so try to focus your energies on intently listening to and endeavouring to understand (and accept) their story of their grief. Above all he urges patient, active listening, focused on acknowledging the personal nature and individual differences of the person's loss and reassuring them that you will stand by them as long as it takes.
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1. Let the bereaved tell their story

One of the first requirements of healthy grieving is to accept that the loss has occurred. Friends and relatives can help with this by allowing the bereaved to talk. Going over the details of a loved one's death helps the reality of it sink in.

Even now, when given the chance, I gain some satisfaction or relief from talking about the night we heard about the girls' accident, going over events again, re-living certain aspects. For some odd reason, I sometimes also like to hear how others found out about the accident, and ask, ‘Where were you, who told you?' Apparently, regurgitating the story of our loss helps relieve the pain. I suspect that hearing how painful the news was to them, how much it shocked them too, validates my own pain, reassuring me of the totally unexpected and profoundly terrible nature of their deaths. Hearing their memories tells me, ‘Yes, it really was that bad, which is why it's so hard for you to come to terms with it.' It is a primal part of the grieving process. According to Kübler-Ross and Kessler, ‘You must get it out. Grief
must be witnessed to be healed. Grief shared is grief abated. Tell your tale, because it reinforces that your loss mattered.' For this reason, support from friends and family is essential, and their patience is definitely required. ‘In sharing our story, we dissipate the pain little by little, giving a small drop to those we meet to disperse it along the way,' they add. ‘When someone is telling you their story over and over, they are trying to figure something out. There has to be a missing piece or they too would be bored. Rather than rolling our eyes and saying “there she goes again”, ask questions about parts that don't connect. Be the witness and even the guide. Look for what they want to know.'
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