From the vortex of grief: Inane platitudes

As I said before, I felt completely alone during this tragic period. What worsened it was talking to people and listening to the absurd things they said to me. During my normal times, I think I am a fairly patient and understanding person. I realize that every person is different in terms of dealing with emotions. Some of them always know the right things to say, and some of them never do even though they have the best of intentions. Therefore, when people of the latter category say something trite to me during a difficult phase, I don't take it seriously. I try and appreciate the intention behind what they said. But this time, I couldn't be that nice person. In what have been my darkest days so far, I struggled and reached out to a few people who were close to me. And when I heard what they had to say, I felt even more alone, sad or angry. I shrunk into a shell and stopped talking to people, because I felt it was pointless. But I realize that before this, I might have said something as equally meaningless to someone else who was in pain. I write this to lend an alternate perspective on how such platitudes could make someone feel. 

Look at the positive side.

Really? And pray enlighten me as to what that is. My father, who was perfectly fine the previous day, collapsed and is struggling for his life in the ICU. He will be paralyzed for the rest of his life. My mom is devastated. My 92 year old grandpa needs to be sent away to a relative. What is the positive side here? And don't bother answering that or pointing out something seemingly positive to you.

Please do not ask someone who is grieving to look at the positives. Sometimes, there is no silver lining. And even if there is, we are in such a dark place that we absolutely cannot see it. Gratitude is important to heal, but it has to come from within, and that takes time and cannot be forced.

Don't worry. Everything will be fine.

This is the one that infuriates me the most. How can you be so certain? Are you God? Where should I frame this guarantee you give me? It shows a baffling lack of sensitivity, because it is precisely the uncertainty of life that is killing me. I don't know if my Dad will be alive the next morning, so it is next to impossible for me not to worry. I worry every damn second. And my life is the farthest thing from fine, and I don't know if it will ever be fine again. If you can't realize or be mindful of this, then I don't know why I'm talking to you.

You are very strong

Is this a compliment or a taunt? Because it undermines my grief. Just because I showed up here today does not mean I am not suffering. Every second of my existence is agony, and just because I don't show it the way you expect me to, you cannot be dismissive of it.

You need to accept this and move on.

How easy for you to say. How would you feel if this happened to your parent? How can I move on when I love so deeply? The other side of that coin is pain, and I have to inhabit that pain before I can begin to heal.

Be happy for all the good memories/ At least you got this much time with him.

No matter how much time we get with a loved one, it is never enough. The grief is always intense. Sure this could have happened when I was 5. It could have also happened when I was 50. But this is my reality, and you are trying to take away from my pain by asking me to feel grateful for something that I simply can't.

What can you say then, you ask?

Acknowledge the uncertainty, grief and shock. Tell me that you don't know what to say, and that you have no words to comfort me. Tell me that you're scared and worried. I can take that better. Allow me the space and time to grieve. Offer help, whatever that means to you, and whatever you can. Maybe it's keeping my father and my family in your prayers. Maybe it's checking in on me once in a while. Maybe it's listening to me cry as I recount the horrors of my day. Even if there's nothing you can do for me, it's okay. I promise not to be mad at you. But I beg of you, don't minimize or deny my grief with platitudes like these. And if you still do, and I say something unkind in response, please forgive me. Like you, I mean well. It's just that what you say feels completely unrelatable from where I am.