The call was brief. Most bad ones are.

“The cancer is back,” he said.

I knew what I wanted to do, but I also knew breaking down would not help my brother right then.

“So what is the doctor saying then?” I asked, hoping he couldn’t tell I was crying.

This was not new to me, losing a loved one, but still I wasn’t sure I remembered everything I had gone through before. Or what I had read about how to deal with your loved one dying.

I did know one thing. God would help me. Just like he did for my dad’s death, and my sister’s death. God would give me strength.

With Peggy’s death, she was there one day and then we were told that she left, but we knew better. Peggy was a victim of domestic violence. You can read that story here.

With Gus, we knew he had pancreatic cancer. And while he did have surgery and they said they got all of it, cancer is a stubborn enemy, one that does not give up, no matter how hard the fight.

One day at a time

I couldn’t think of me right now, I thought of all the ways Gus must be feeling. Fear was one of them.

“How can I help you?” I heard myself say.

“It would really help if you could get things organized at our place. I know that Betty would have a hard time with that.

“Sure,” I said. And I’m happy to admit, I really was glad to do it. And he was right, his wife would have enough to deal with right now with Gus’s illness.

This was my brother. The one that was there from the first day of my life.

Oh sure, we had times when we weren’t talking, Gus had a way of pulling back at times, but we knew that he still cared about us so we’d just wait till he would come out of the bunker, as he called it.

So I went over and helped organize as much as I could.

I thought back to the birthday party we had given Gus. We all got together at a restaurant and I had gotten a delicious cake from a friend. It was a special time.

And Gus’ smile said it all. We were all there for him.

Just like we were when he had his surgery. I traveled the 3 hours from my home and I sat with the rest just waiting, praying and wanting everything to be okay.

Please God, let him come through this.

And he did, and we were so glad.

Till that call.

The favor

“Anne, would you do something for me? Would you tell the boys?”

I felt like I had swallowed a huge rock and it lay in the pit of my stomach.

“I just don’t think I could do it,” Gus added.

“Sure,” I said again. “I’ll do that right now.”

Pushing the buttons, I dreaded the job before me. Hated it, but you do all sorts of things out of love.

“George,” I said, “Can you get Steve on the line as a conference call?” Telling them both at once was better than going through it twice.

“Sure,” he said, without questioning why. He could tell from my tone, it was important.

And when I had both of my brothers on, I did the thing I didn’t want to do. I told them we were losing still another person. One we loved very much.

I could hear their broken hearts through their voices and I tried my best to answer their questions.

I remember one day as we sat with Gus, and he leaned forward and admitted, “I’m sure glad I don’t have to do this with any of you. I don’t think I could do it.”

And I knew he meant it, with every inch of his big heart.

But there would still be one more request from Gus, one I did not see coming.

The big one

“Anne,” Gus said, as he called me one day. “I need you to do a big favor for me.”

I listened knowing this must be big, the way he was hesitating.

I breathed in.

“I need you to make the cremation arrangements.”

There was a pause on my end. I just sat there for what seemed like forever. And Gus went on explaining that his wife would not be able to do it, but I heard words, but was stuck on his request.

And as my tears fell, I said.

“Okay.”

I’m amazed people can still speak when their hearts are shattered on the floor.

And so I made the call. It was just like I was placing an order for a product. Threre were questions the person on phone asked, and answers I gave. And all the while, my stomach hurt so bad.

And when I hung up the phone, I just went into a room and cried for a long time. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. I already missed him, but he was still here.

Anticipatory grief. They really need to call it something else. I did not look forward to any of it.

So what did I learn by going through this huge loss? What can I pass on to those who will also travel down this painful road?

Cherish every moment

We don’t know how long we’ll have on this earth. No one is guaranteed anything.  Make sure you tell those you love how you feel. Often

Each loss I’ve experienced makes me more aware of those I still have here.

One time, after visiting Gus in the nursing home, I told him goodbye. I stopped to get a bite to eat before heading back home, but as I was walking to my car from Panera’s, I felt I needed to stop by Gus for a few more moments.

It meant I’d be driving home in the dark, but I knew I had to. I walked into his room and saw his dinner tray sitting on a table, he was just lying there in bed.

He smiled when he saw me. It was a special moment. But what followed was my favorite.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

He nodded. So I picked up his fork and I fed my big brother. I can’t tell you how that one memory has helped with the pain of losing him.

Do you want more of this? I asked, pointing to the main course.

But he smiled a devilish smile and pointed to the dessert. So I smiled back and fed him pudding instead.

And when I left that day, I was more filled than he was.

It was the best day ever.

Make memories

Make as many memories as you can. And they don’t have to be elaborate to be meaningful.

Make your loved one smile. And if they can’t smile on the outside, they still may be smiling on the inside.

Your presence does more than you can imagine.

Forgive

If you have had any grievances with your loved one, release them. Give them to God instead.

This way you won’t have to deal with guilty feelings or anything else that will rob you of your last moments together.

You may have to forgive them for leaving you, later on. It’s something those in grief deal with. When my mom died and I was only sixteen, I felt lost. And I was angry. Angry that she left. Angry that I felt the worst in my life and the person who could help me was gone.

Just deal with your feelings as they come. Acknowledge them, and then use the checklist God gives us to determine which ones to hold onto.

Is there any praise?
Is there any good report?

And if there’s not, let it go.

I don’t think you can really prepare yourselves for their leaving. But you can say the things you have on your heart so that you don’t regret NOT saying them.

You can do whatever you can to make them comfortable while they are still here.

Get them to smile

Making them smile will have dual benefits. It will make you feel good as you’re with them, and you’ll feel good everytime you think of it later.

When Gus was still at home he texted me from his bedroom and when I went to see what he wanted he said, “I didn’t text you.”

Then he did it again, and even though I knew it was him, I played along. Later on the hospice nurse winked and said,

“Yeah, he was texting you. And he was chuckling the whole time.”

Pray with them

If they believe, then don’t just pray for them, pray with them. And if they are not able, you be their voice.

Sometimes people will sing their loved one’s favorite songs, or read to them, their favorite stories.

Maybe you softly play their favorite music in the background.

After they’re gone

Now comes the harder part. No longer can you say things you wish you had said. There are always regrets.

But sometimes, you can still find a quiet place and you can resume conversations. I miss Gus when one of my grandkids will say or do something funny. I miss being able to share it with him. But then I remember when I did share stories like that. And that brings a smile to my face.

Be kind to yourself as memories surface and then like bubbles, gently release them. Do things that will comfort you. In time, do things that you would have done with your loved one.

Anniversary dates

That first year is definitely a hard one.

There are all the firsts:

First time you go to their house and they’re not there.
First Christmas without them.
First birthday, etc.

Some people find it much easier to do something different on the holidays. They find it too painful to be there with the empty chair.

Others still want to have their traditions and they find comfort in them. There is no right way, you have to find what works for you.

Moving on

Loss is hard. You will never stop missing the one you’re missing. And that’s normal.

I want to tell you something and I hope you hear what I’m saying.
There IS no moving on. The most you can hope for is finding a way to work through your grief and assimilate this loss into your life.

Even the term “moving on,” sounds like you are leaving them.

Give grace to others

You are going to hear things that hurt you. People mean well, but they really don’t know how to relate to those in grief. So they will say things that hurt. Or they will say nothing, which also hurts.

They might even subtract themselves from your life because they just can’t deal with your grief right now.

Use this time to just work through the pain. Don’t pretend it’s not there. Don’t stuff it down, or get so busy you just don’t think about it.

When you try to pretend you’re not in pain It’s like trying to hold a beachball under water. No matter how hard you try, that ball is gonna come up.

Grief is like a wave that knocks you down when you least expect it.

Take care of you

Do whatever you need to take care of yourself.

If you need help, ask for it.

People will help you because they care about you. Some don’t help because they don’t know what to do.

Especially those who say, “Let me know if you need anything.”
Maybe they haven’t lost a loved one yet.

Grievers have to be sometimes reminded to even eat in the beginning, so how could they possibly verbalize what they need? They don’t even know at times.

Take your time

There is no timetable for grief, no matter what anyone says.
If you lose someone you love, you will grieve.

Take all the time you need, and don’t worry about anyone’s expectations.

Grief is a solitary journey. Even when you are grieving in a family, each person’s journey is unique.

Breathe

One day you’ll find that things start feeling a little easier. You don’t necessarily feel good. You feel less bad.

You won’t forget your loved one, he/she is part of you. You will always miss them.

You will always love them. Love doesn’t end when a person stops breathing.

I learned this when we lost our little 14- month- old granddaughter, Livie.

I don’t say I loved her, I love her. Now. Today. And I always will.

In heaven, I will see the ones I have lost. Heaven will be wonderful because God will put death to death.

In heaven, there will be no more pain, no more suffering, no more sickness. But until then, I can keep remembering.

Talk about your loved one whenever you want. And if one person isn’t comfortable with it, find another one who is.

I look forward to seeing Gus again. And my sister, my mom and sweet little Livie. But until then, I will take out my memories and enjoy them whenever I want.

Memories are a sweet gift for those who grieve. And when you’re done remembering, store them away so they stay nice and fresh for next time.

Call to Action:

What have you found helpful as you have grieved a loved one?
Did you find people understanding?
I’d love to hear from you.

Photo by João Silas on Unsplash, Previously published on Thrive Global