What is the right thing to say?

TazziRN, RN · Mar 18, 2008

Silent listening was perfect. If you truly feel the need to say words, just a simple "I'm so sorry" can mean wonders.

When somebody dies, a cloud turns into an angel and flies up to tell God to put another flower on a pillow. A bird gives the message back to the world, and sings a silent prayer that makes the rain cry. People disappear, but they never really go away.

The spirits up there put the sun to bed, wake up the grass, and spin the earth in dizzy circles. Sometimes you can see them dancing in a cloud during the daytime, when they're supposed to be sleeping. They paint the rainbows and also the sunsets and make waves splash and tug at the tide. They toss shooting stars and listen to wishes.

And when they sing windsongs, they whisper to us:

"Don't miss me too much. The view is nice and I'm doing just fine."

bethin · Mar 18, 2008

I think silently listening was the right thing to do.

We had a baby that coded and died on our floor a few months ago. Baby was otherwise healthy (1 month old) that had contracted RSV. The RSV wasn't a bad case, baby was doing great and was slated for discharge when she coded. My job was to keep the parents busy and offer comfort. I'm not a mother, so I can't imagine or understand the pain she was going through. I told her that I won't say I understand because I can't. Both parents appreciated that honest statement. Instead of them thinking of her death, I asked about her life. Before you knew it, dad was flashing pictures.

I don't think I've ever heard such a cry as a crying mother when she finds out her baby has died. Still haunts me.

I guess I did ok: the parents sent me a heartfelt thank you card later.

czyja, MSN, RN · Mar 18, 2008

Perhaps my silent listening was the right thing to say.

It was. And it was the wise and compassionate thing to say.

Listening deeply to another's grief says more than any words.

jessiern, BSN, RN · Mar 18, 2008

At a time like that in someones life, they just need someone to listen to them. They need to talk, to get things out. Work through the process. Even if you were to say something perfect, 5 minutes later she wouldn't remember what it was. And there are no words of comfort for her, only time. You did exactly what she needed.

Katnip, RN · Mar 18, 2008

As some one who has a lost a lot of people in my life, including my mother when I was 24 and my 18-year-old son a few years ago, I can tell you this: there is no real comfort from words. Listening and letting someone know you care is about all you can do. No amount of platitudes are going to help.

As a side note, you'd be amazed at how that caring comes across in typewritten words on a forum. Thank you, Allnurses!:heartbeat

allnurses Guide · Mar 18, 2008

I am not a nurse yet, but I am a bereaved mother who lost her 13-year-old son a year ago to cancer.

Listening was not only the best thing to do, it was the only thing you could do. One of the hardest parts about grief, particularly for someone who would normally be considered too young to die, is coming to terms that there are just a lot of questions we will never have the answer to. Knowing someone is willing to witness our pain and sit with us in the midst of the mortifying, agonizing "why's" of it all means more than you know. The worst part of grief for me has been how fast and willing people are to look away from the anguish, not only from having to try and move forward without a loved one, but from all the rage, fear and confusion that comes with a death that presented too soon.

You were perfect and it speaks volumes about you as a person that you hurt because you recognize there really was nothing you could do or say that would ease her pain. Trust me, just knowing someone saw her pain at all means a lot to her, or will when the numbness wears off.

racing-mom4, BSN, RN · Mar 18, 2008

Gentlywind--your post brought tears to my eyes. The fact that your able to exist each day is an inspiration.

I am unable to even imagine what emotions you have felt.

Your son will live through you each day as you care for others.

It must give you a smile to know you have your very own angel in heaven cheering you on each day.

Thank you for your kind words from a mothers perspective.

jessiern, BSN, RN · Mar 18, 2008

Gentylwind and Katnip...I am so sorry for the loss both of you have experienced. I can't imagine the pain of lossing a child. Just wanted to give you both a :icon_hug:

NurseNora, BSN, RN · Mar 18, 2008

As nurses, we want to fix things and make people feel better. Unfortunately, there are some things that can't be fixed and only time can aid. The willingness to sit with someone in her pain and dispair, acknowlage and be a witness to it is invaluable. It's a very helpless feeling that nurses have trouble with since we are the helpers and we don't like to do helpless. In fact, our search for finding the "right words" is as much about easing our discomfort at being present during someone else's pain as it is about helping them.

You did the right thing. You were there, you cared, you listened, you felt.

missnurse1 · Mar 18, 2008

WOW! Thanks everyone! This was definetly a hard situation and I am greatful that I am not alone in the fact that I chose to listen instead of try to explain things that I cannot. I am very grateful that you all responded with such kind words, it really means a lot. I feel very fortunate to be able to find kind words from other people that have shared common expierences. A few other people that I have spoken to about the situation just kind of shrugged me off with replies of "it happens...'." I vow to never get to that point in my life. Human life is always precious to me and if silently listening to a greiving spouse, mother, child or friend is what is needed to add even the smallest amount of comfort then that is what I shall do. That is one reason why I went into nursing! ThankYou all so very much! :icon_hug:

aeauooo · Mar 18, 2008

My training as a Cabrini Minister was very similar to the "therapeutic communication" I learned in nursing school, which is simply listening and encouraging the client to express her/his feelings.

I met my wife while caring for her brother who was in a MVA and sustained a severe head injury five years ago. To this day my in-laws tell my wife and me of people coming to the house to 'minister' to them and then spending the whole time talking. My wife's family tell me of people with good intentions who say really stupid things trying to 'make it alright.'

We hate seeing people suffer. We want them to stop suffering because, IMO, it makes us uncomfortable.

We can't make it 'alright.' Nothing we can do will ever make it 'alright,' and we will never, ever "know how it feels."

The best thing we can do (and the best way for us to avoid putting our foot in our mouths) is to say nothing but, "I'm sorry," and then listen, letting the person who is suffering know that it is okay for her/him to talk about her/his sorrow, that we are there to listen (hard to do sometimes) - to be, as we were taught in Cabrini Ministry, a "sacramental presence."

Good job!