Condolence Note, Years Late

I’ve always said it’s never too late to send a condolence note. Although your situation gives new meaning to the word “belated” and goes beyond what I had in mind, the advice still applies. As for what to write, I recently came across a note that was shared with me by someone in a position similar to yours. Perhaps it will inspire you to find your own meaningful words. The note read:

Dear ----:
It was so nice to see you Thursday night. It reminded me once again that I hadn’t sent a condolence note when I heard your son had died. I sat down to write at least a dozen times, but no words came out that I felt could comfort you. Maybe it’s because I have children of my own and couldn’t imagine the pain you were experiencing—or didn’t want to.
Whatever the reason, I’m sorry. I thought of you and what you were going through many times.

The writer signed off with “Regretfully.”

These words come across as honest and deeply felt. The note’s brevity adds to its power, and it’s hard to believe your colleague wouldn’t appreciate your own sincere version, despite all the time gone by.

Which also raises another issue: Maybe the writer of the note above would have sent it sooner if she hadn’t tried to comfort the parent. The fact is it’s rarely possible to provide comfort—unless you had a very close relationship with the person (or with the deceased). Attempts to allay sadness tend to be misguided and may backfire. Often the bereaved actually resents such efforts. What you can do is acknowledge the loss and express sympathy. That is the purpose of a condolence note in most cases.

Additionally, we tend to assume the bereaved expected us to write and/or noticed that we did not. The reality is we’re just not that important. It’s highly unlikely the devastated parent paid attention to who did not send a card or note after the death.

    

Talk about death is alive and well

Is awareness of all things death-related a perception thing? That once you’ve lost someone, you become more aware of the buzz around you about death and grieving? Or is it that, as part of the aging process, we are all more accepting of our mortality and others’ too? Or could it be that as we age and lose loved ones, we are all just plain paying more attention to the topic – and talking about it more?

A recent spate of death-related stories in the media – all this month – leads me to wonder where this is all coming from…and where it’s going.

* A couple of weeks ago, an acquaintance in Boston lay blogging at the same time she lay dying. Once diagnosed with cancer, she posted her journal on Caring Bridge and as her demise drew near, nothing was as poignant or personal as the parting words, in print, about how sorry she was to be leaving life and the love of her life.

* An uncle by marriage died in Connecticut. He was elderly and somewhat too far removed for me to have known he was so close to death, but I was heartened by the stellar obituary I found on Legacy.com that told the gutsy story of his pioneering of the recycling movement, long before the first Earth Day.

* CBS Sunday Morning last week featured a story about how children mourn reported by Katie Couric, whose own daughters lost their dad when they were just six and two.

* A “Modern Love” column in The New York Times on Sunday was written by a woman whose husband heartbreakingly died “a happy man” and who called his service “the best funeral ever” – words that would not have been said openly and in print not so long ago.

* Not long ago, All Things Considered on National Public Radio aired a delightful story about an Atlanta man who has been collecting obituaries for over 50 years.

* A newly published book of condolence letters sent to Jackie Kennedy when the President was assassinated underscores the elegance and empathy of a simple note – whether written by statesmen or school children.

* And hip-hop superstar Jay-Z raps about death in his current hit, “Forever Young”:

Let us die young or let us live forever
We don't have the power but we never say never
Sitting in the sandpit
Life is a short trip
The music's for the sad man…
So when the director yells cut
I'll be fine
I'm forever young
I'll be fine
Blame it on the boomers, if you must, this determination to be young forever and go out in a blaze of glory when possible. Because death, dying and grief haven’t always been an acceptable focus of conversation, much less media hype. When my mother died too young in 1968, people could barely speak the words ‘breast cancer’ much less face the truth that the end was near.

In this blog, I hope to make preparing for death – and how you want to be remembered – a more accessible and acceptable topic, too. It doesn’t have to be gloomy and morbid; nor is it egotistical and controlling. It’s a fact of life that we’ll all be gone one day, and we might as well have a hand in how that final journey is handled.