How to be present while grappling with grief
Sometimes words fail us, but actions can compensate
For years, my wife, Jill, had asked me to watch a TV show she thought I’d love. I spent all of that time saying no, but this year, I finally broke down and watched “The Sopranos.” As it played, I found myself reflecting on something profound: Grieving doesn’t get easier no matter how much death we experience.
The thought popped into my head when one of the leading characters, at his mother’s funeral, shrugged off a well-wisher by saying, “What’re ya gonna do?”
On the surface, it seemed like the character was just being a tough guy. But his response captures the complexity of grief and the often inadequate attempts we make to console one another.
A deeply personal journey
In the world of “The Sopranos,” where tough exteriors mask deep vulnerabilities, the line exemplified how people grapple with emotions. It struck me how often we rely on similar phrases when words fail us. It’s not that we don’t care; it’s that we don’t always know how to show it.
This revelation led me to think about my own life, especially my role as a caregiver to my wife, who bravely faces the challenges of Huntington’s disease. Over the years, we’ve shared countless conversations about her fears and uncertainties. In those moments, I’ve often found myself at a loss for words, defaulting to clichés or empty reassurances. Watching “The Sopranos,” I realized that these responses, while well intentioned, might sometimes come across as dismissive or lacking empathy.
Grief is a deeply personal journey, and we each navigate it in our own way. For Jill, it might entail a fear of losing more of her independence as the disease progresses or a concern about our future. For me, it’s the silent grief of witnessing her struggles and feeling powerless to change the course of this disease.
What I’ve come to realize is that it’s not about having the perfect words, but rather being present and genuinely listening. When Jill shares her fears, she isn’t looking for me to solve her problems or have all the answers. She needs to know that I’m there with her, feeling her pain, and standing by her side. Sometimes the most meaningful thing I can do is simply hold her hand and let her know that she’s not alone.
This experience has made me more mindful of my responses. Instead of defaulting to “What’re ya gonna do?” or similar phrases, I’m learning to express my support in more meaningful ways with the sincerity of my presence.
It’s OK to admit that I don’t have all the answers. In the end, it’s not about the words we say, but the love and care we show that truly make a difference.
Note: Huntington’s Disease News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Huntington’s Disease News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to Huntington’s disease.
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