Practicing the art of comfort in, dump out

I have blogged a couple of times about the great LA Times article on how to be a comfort to people and not say the wrong things in hard situations. For a refresher, here is the great Op-Ed piece by Susan Silk and Barry Goldman.

Over the past couple of weeks I have found and witnessed that it is often against people's first reactions to practice comfort in, dump out. People sometimes value their own pain over those who are in those inner most rings and it's really hard not to put yourself into the center. It really is ok to not say anything at all, especially if you don't know what to say. Never is this more on display than at a wake or a funeral.

My boyfriend's mother passed away from pancreatic cancer a little over 2 weeks ago. It's a really sad way to meet someone's entire extended family. For those who were just outside the inner circle (the inner circle being: my boyfriend, his dad and his brother) for the most part people were practicing comfort in. My main job was to give my bf a dump out ring and offer comfort in. It involved me biting my tongue when one relative decided to tell us about his theory that a cure for cancer exists and that it's a global conspiracy between big pharma to not release it. Being the "dump out ring" meant it was also my fault that pants don't fit, sweaters shrank and shoes just look stupid. Practicing comfort in can also sometimes mean that you buy a brand new winter coat because your person in the inner circle has become so fixated on it that it becomes a point of anger. A quick trip to Macy's and you get a smile on a face for the first time in weeks. Not all things are that easy. Sometimes you cry together in the grocery store, or you have to just listen and not try to fix during a 3 hr rant about how much the universe sucks right now.

After the funeral my boyfriend's father told me that he couldn't imagine what I went through with breast cancer. I told him that compared to everything he and his wife had been through that it wasn't even on the same level. He said his two sister (both concurrently in treatment for cancer) said the same thing. People often preach that cancer is cancer. There are some universal experiences, but there truly are different levels. I was never faced with writing my own obituary or picking out the outfit I wanted to be buried in. I didn't have to go down those roads. I hope to not have to for another 60 or so years.

I will forever be grateful for being given the chance to get to know my boyfriend's mother before she passed. It will always make me sad how short our time was, but for right now that's something I'll only share with the next circle up.

Rest in peace Joanne.