Author: Shari Brauner

Strengthening Kindness Through Mourning

Sometimes it takes the worst tragedies imaginable to shake people outside of themselves. Our world can seem so divided until something happens to flip an ingrained behavior or narrative on its head. We’ve all lived through 9/11 and the ups and downs of the coronavirus, but in my experience, one of the worst things someone can be forced to endure is the loss of a child. It’s a moment in time that can forever decimate life as you know it.

Once upon a time when my oldest son was in first grade, I had my first encounter with a family faced with this kind of horrific nightmare. Their 6-year-old daughter was diagnosed with a brain tumor that was operable, but most likely terminal. I would never be able to describe the ashen faces that walked around our elementary school almost every single day after Katie’s diagnosis. But along with visible heartbreak came a level of compassion I was only beginning to understand. People from all walks of life learned to respect a family’s privacy while offering support and comfort through a journey that would last six years. It was a miraculous coming together that I wish could be mirrored in today’s polarized society.

That family’s life obviously never returned to normal, but things in our town most definitely did. Busy families resumed lives that were all-consumed with obligations and activities that often cloud the reality of how fragile life can be. And then it happened again. Another child in town was diagnosed with a horrible form of cancer, this one in my daughter’s grade. Ian’s battle was shorter but no less heartbreaking. He was a brilliant high school student with his whole life ahead of him, until it was stolen by a cruel disease. Once again, the town pulled together with the utmost respect for the privacy of a grieving family. 

I have three children and a superstition about things happening in threes, but I never expected the events that would unfold only a few years later. Six boys who my youngest son had grown up with decided to drive around together on a rainy fall night. Wet leaves are tricky for drivers with experience, but for newly licensed 17-year-olds, they are the most unpleasant kind of surprise. These were good kids who had nothing in their systems but the desire for some innocent fun. Unfortunately, the car went into a skid and ejected one of the passengers straight into a tree, killing him instantly. The other boys sustained treatable injuries, but Nick’s passing hit the town with a magnitude that I had never seen.

“It is encouraging to see compassion is still out there wherever it might be needed. Our community does not stand alone in being full of good people who can jump into action when given the opportunity.”

This time I knew the family well, but by some indescribable phenomenon, it felt like everyone in town felt just as close to them. Hundreds came to the wake whether they knew them personally or not and did not hesitate to include the other five families who would never be the same after that horrific night. The mayor organized an evening vigil on the high school football field that allowed all of the boys who were in the car to speak about losing their friend as our community embraced them in a circle of love. Visitors streamed into Nick’s home for months as it became a place for his friends and everyone else to keep his memory alive. The family never turned away any acts of kindness, leading to the start of new friendships and adding to bonds that only grew stronger. The end goal was to ease the family’s pain and loss, but deep down we all knew that this kind of broken heart is impossible to repair.

Almost five years later, we have continued to see unimaginable tragedies in our town taking children far too soon. Suicides, drug overdoses, a congenital heart defect, and even a college shooting have touched families in this town year after year. One would think we would all be numb at this point, but the response has been just the opposite. Time and time again, the outpouring of love and support is always there. It’s like the rest of the world stops so each family can receive whatever they might need to help ease their shock and pain. 

The flipside to having so many parents in town who have lost children has been the opportunity to pay the experience forward. Grieving mothers can comfort other grieving mothers in ways that others could never duplicate. With that in mind, these families came together and started their own support group now known as The Mahwah Angels. Thanks to videoconferencing, they have been able to speak once a week to help each other with their own personal form of grief counseling. It’s a special community that no one would ever want an invitation to, but the fact that these moms and dads have joined together to foster even the smallest amount of healing is truly amazing.

It is encouraging to see compassion is still out there wherever it might be needed. Our community does not stand alone in being full of good people who can jump into action when given the opportunity. Most don’t need a tragedy to lead by example, but there are some circumstances that will always pull at the universal heartstrings. In this town, we have seen too many of them, but the result has been a comfort in knowing that kindness can still prevail.

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How to Help a Friend

Throughout my teenage years, I started to notice something new and different emerging within my closest friendships. I seemed to be spending a lot of time engaging with friends who were coming to me for some kind of help. Whether they needed me for a rescue mission, as a partner in crime, or simply for a listening ear, I noticed a new purpose developing in my young life. I even contemplated choosing psychology as a major in college until I realized that emotionally engaging in deeply personal issues with others might feel like too much in addition to my own. So instead, I chose the unofficial role of the friendly neighborhood support system, choosing quality of life over a paycheck.

I do believe we are capable of helping those who mean the most to us, even if we find ourselves feeling at a loss of what to do or say. On the flip side, some people don’t want or know how to accept help, so there will never be a life manual of instructions on how to navigate this tricky territory. As someone who has a hard time allowing anyone to make my life easier in any way, I feel like I have a dual vantage point. How do you help someone who doesn’t know what they need? Here are some tips to help you avoid finding yourself within the disappointing majority of people whose response to that question would be, “you don’t.”

The first step is to gauge the situation with the response. Are we dealing with a full-throttle emergency, or would the less-is-more-reaction be just as effective? Most people are surprised to know that a small gesture can feel massive to someone in need. We’ve all seen the meal chains that are put together for families grappling with illness or tragedy, but I’ve discovered that something personal can be even more meaningful. 

Covering the Basic Needs 

Having simple, daily needs covered can hold so much value when we’re in a situation where the basics become difficult. I’ve learned to think about ways to offer helpful solutions with that reality in mind.  I watched a friend spend two exhausting years caring for her terminally ill mother, so shortly after the funeral, I gave her a gift certificate for a day of spa pampering. Another woman whose chronic illness left her housebound was thrilled when I picked her up one day and took her on a beautiful drive. The new mom up the block was grateful when I took care of her newborn and laundry for a few hours so she could take a much-needed nap. I must admit that the best help I received was having a friend come over to walk my dog after breaking my foot. Little things can feel much bigger when you’re in distress. A person can make a huge impact just by showing that they care, even in the smallest of ways.

Offering a Heavier Lift

Of course, there are also extreme cases where a good friend might feel the need to cross a potentially uncomfortable boundary. In most situations, I feel it’s probably better to be asked for that kind of help. I once impulsively offered a full weekend of cooking, company, and support, and I was given the go-ahead to step in. The family was in crisis, but by the end of our time together, I felt they weren’t the only ones who received something positive out of our time together. My assistance made a difference in their stress relief, and seeing them in a better place when I left made me feel rewarded, too. 

As much as I will be there for my friends no matter what they face, the good times will continue to be important, too. The “Lucy and Ethel” moments with my best friend from third grade stand out in my mind as some of the best times of pure joy. But we all know it can’t always be that way, and we serve ourselves and those around us better when we don’t run away from life moments that feel uncomfortable or challenging. Even worse would be avoiding a friend because you aren’t sure what to do. Like the traditional marriage vows, sometimes you too can make a difference in sickness and in health. And when you really care about someone, it’s always helpful to remember that even the smallest gestures can mean the most.

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A Special Mask

Before we can fully move forward into a life outside of our pandemic-related boundaries, I feel like it’s going to be important for us to take stock in the people who have helped us get through the past year. In my personal experience, as my world grew smaller, I found myself getting closer to a handful of friends. I have one friend in particular who is someone I have been close to since we were 16 years old. Scott has fought anxiety issues for decades, so this past year was particularly difficult for him. We talked and saw each other more frequently than we had in a long time (either by phone or in a socially distanced setting). Even though there were times when he needed my support more than I needed his, I became extremely grateful to share some of the isolating quiet with him on a consistent basis.

After Scott received his first vaccine, he offered me something that I found to be extremely heartfelt. As I was preparing to travel to Florida to see my parents, he made a special trip to deliver one of his highly effective masks for me to wear on the plane. His investment in my safety spoke volumes and opened my eyes to a level of thoughtfulness that would be difficult to imagine before the pandemic.

The trip south went flawlessly. I felt safe staying with my vaccinated parents and was able to schedule my own vaccine upon returning to New Jersey. It all seemed like a win-win until I returned home and took a COVID test the day before my vaccine. The results were positive, but days later I would learn that I had received a false positive. Scott kept me distracted from the stress of moving out of my house and worrying that things could get even worse if I started to show any symptoms. Thankfully, I got a negative rapid test the following day and a negative PCR result a few days after that. Scott was right there with me, just as we had been for each other through a year of lockdown.

“The struggle that brought some of us closer could just as easily rip us apart now if we are suddenly on a different page from the friends and family we took this journey with.”

Two months later I am fully vaccinated and most parts of our country appear to be reopening. While I am thrilled, it is highly noticeable that everyone is having a different reaction to emerging from what life became over the past year. Some are taking it slow, others are diving headfirst, and many are struggling with intense anxiety and fear. The struggle that brought some of us closer could just as easily rip us apart now if we are suddenly on a different page from the friends and family we took this journey with. Just like the squares on a Zoom call, not everyone is ready to put their cameras on and fully engage on the next task at hand.

As we embark on a readjustment phase, I sincerely hope that empathy and kindness can lead the way forward. There are those who will remain unvaccinated, those who can’t handle the sudden social stimulation, and those who are just afraid that they will still get sick and die. The one thing we all have in common is that we got through the last year, but each story will remain an individual one. I still see friends suffering in different ways, and I am committed to trying to help them with whatever they need without inflicting judgment on how they find their way to feeling more comfortable in a less restricted environment.

Scott came to my house for the first time a few weeks ago and we ate dinner inside with the sliding glass door open behind us. Before he left, he gave me a new mask to travel with as I was about to get on a plane to bring my son home from college. Anxiety is still very much on his radar, but the fact that he continues to put my safety at the top of his priority list touches me in ways I have no words for. This kind of loyalty and true friendship is a gift that I treasure even more now. I can only hope that the difficulties of dealing with the past year have brought others to moments of meaningful perspective. We need to be good to each other and to acknowledge that the challenges of life in a pandemic somehow fostered many unforeseen ways to bring out the best in people.

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