Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Thursday 27th May: Tombstone chat

We had a bloke here this morning giving us a quote for a tombstone - sorry 'memorial stone' - for Salome's grave. Here's a handy hint from the world of the bereaved: if you need to interact professionally with people who have recently experienced a death in their family, no matter what part of the death / funeral / burial / memorial / death certificate / autopsy process you encounter those people, no matter how long it has been since the death, after introducing yourself the first words out of your mouth should be something like " I am so sorry for your loss". There. Simple. It's not rocket science. There might be more ornate and heartfelt things you could say, but in my opinion "I am sorry for your loss" is an elegant base-line phrase. Going into the house of a recently bereaved family can be very socially awkward, but if you do this regularly as part of your job, then YOU NEED TO BE IN THE HABIT OF SAYING SOMETHING TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE LOSS. If the death / funeral business is your bread and butter, you've got even less excuse to avoid expressing some basic phrase of condolence. If you really don't know what to say then say "I never know what to say when I am in front of parents who have lost a child. I can't think of anything to say."

The bloke we had here this morning was perfectly affable, competent, and helpful, but I have almost dismissed his quote because he did not acknowledge our loss. I know he has a mixed business, but his 9.30 am appointment today was not giving a quote for kitchen bench tops or bathroom cabinetry. His 9.30 am today was here at our house to talk to us about our need for a tombstone resulting from the death of our baby girl. It's fucking important, and it's very sad, and he seemed unaware of either of those aspects of the situation. More important than what sort of marble we choose, what colour paint for the writing, or what shape the stone is, the whole point if a tombstone is to honour the dead and provide a physical focal-point for the bereaved. It needs to be done right.

Matt's reading over my shoulder and says he thinks this bloke gave us a good quote. Matt thinks I am too exacting in my expectations of people. This bloke today was telling us in detail about some surgery his pet dog had yesterday! I am glad his dog is doing well, and I am suitably shocked at the cost of removing a benign tumour from a pet, but he was here to talk about our daughter's tombstone. You all know I do not expect people to act sad around me, or to keep the rest of their lives under wraps while I am in the room. I am not sad all the time myself, and I make a lot of jokes about my grief. Maybe it's like that line from Kath and Kim where Kel makes some critical comment about Kim in Kath's hearing and Kath says "Hang on Darl, I can say it, but not you."

I'm not making any assumptions about this bloke who was here today. Maybe he'll go home tonight and say to his partner "I had to give a headstone quote for a family for their little dead baby girl this morning. Urk. I hate given headstone quotes when it's for a dead kiddie. I get churned up and I don't know where to look or what to say and I start blathering on like an idiot because I just want to get out of there ASAP." He might look back and think "I can't believe I talked to those poor people about my dog's tumour! I'm an idiot!" I've learnt since Salome's death that people who give odd brisk responses to our situation are often people who have experienced something similar themselves. Ok, I'm talking myself around now. I probably shouldn't dismiss his quote.

Maybe I am being overly sensitive today because this afternoon we are going to NICU to meet with the NICU team to discuss the autopsy results. We are going in a bit earlier to see how I go being back at NICU, and if I feel uncomfortable being in NICU, we will have the meeting somewhere else. I can't think of any questions to ask of the staff. The 'Why? Why? Why?' stuff is more an emotion than a question. The NICU staff seem to understand this. Wish us luck.

1 comment:

  1. I experienced something similar. The detective who told me my daughter was gone didn't say sorry. She simply said "Your daughter has died." I dropped the (plastic) pitcher of water I was holding and fell to the floor.

    I wonder whether people like this have been exposed to so much death, they're just conditioned to not react? I would hope not.

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