From my journal dated April 30, 2002:
B.R.* brought dinner for us last night. Her voice was really low, and it seemed at first like she didn’t want to be here.
But then she apologized for being emotional, and I thought she was going to run out the door. I followed her quickly to the door and made her turn around so I could hug her. She just started sobbing and apologized for crying. She was trying to get out the door before she broke down in front of us.
It’s about the most honest emotion I’ve seen. I told her it was okay…she was crying because she cared, and that it meant a lot to me to know she cared.
That was the first time she’d been by the crash site, and she just fell apart. I think it made it too real.
She said that she’s been praying, that she felt bad because she hadn’t called. She didn’t know what to say to me (us).
Are there more people who care…but just don’t know what to say or don’t want to cry in front of us? When no one does or says anything, it’s hard to tell. When no one does or says anything, it feels like no one cares…and we feel so alone.
From Lorraine Peterson’s book, Restore My Soul; A Grief Companion:
“…[my mother] shared with me the feelings she experienced as an eighteen-year-old when her father was suddenly killed in a car accident. ‘People avoided me because they didn’t know what to say,’ she’d recall. ‘But I only wanted to know that they cared.'”
Peterson, Lorraine. Restore My Soul; A Grief Companion. Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2000.