Survivors give advice about mourning their loved ones, as told to The Inquirer’s obit writer
Some people take on new activities or seek out new friends to fill the void. Others grieve quietly or isolate for days. The key, many survivors say, is to do it your way.
For Roxi Helm, “Losing my father has been the worst thing to ever happen to me. I mourn him every second of every single day.”
For Eleanor Dezzi, the grief of losing her husband, Al, in December is muted when family and friends share stories and memories about him. “It just reiterates his accomplishments, what he did for people, and what he meant to so many,” she said.
Ruth Rovner’s 86-year relationship with her younger sister, Sally, ended with her sister’s death in January. But photos of Sally hugging her grandson or surrounded by her seven grandchildren, “even the two of us sisters,” Rovner said, “are reminders of what a full and happy life Sally had.”
I write obituaries for The Inquirer, and survivors often share how they grapple with the grief and loneliness that can linger with the death of a loved one. Some people take on new activities or seek out new friends to fill the void. Others isolate for days.
Some survivors go to therapy or join support groups. Others reread poignant personal notes or put down their thoughts in journals.
“Understand that people experience and express grief in different ways.”
Roxi Helm prayed and read Scripture after her father, Carl, died in May. She also started sewing and painting.
Most of all, she said, she established her own timeline for healing. “I don’t allow anyone to rush me, push me, or anything when it comes to how long I mourn,” Helm said. “This isn’t easy, and you need time and space to try and regain some peace of mind. Stay occupied, but don’t suppress mourning.”
Liz Loewy’s father, Bob, died in January, and she said she still talks to him as if he’s nearby. She tries to be honest when friends ask her how she’s doing even if it makes her feel vulnerable, she said, and she doesn’t worry much about what other people think.
“Now that I’m no longer the caregiver for my father, I have time, and I’m excited about what I’m going to create.”
“Give yourself space and grace to grieve on your own terms,” she said. “Do not feel as though something is wrong with you if you are not crying as hard or as openly as another family member. Sometimes people grieve without tears, and that does not mean that they are in any less pain.”
Cliff Hunter died last March, and his sister, Joyce Wilson, met many of his friends for the first time in his last few weeks. She talked to his landlord and neighbors, too, and made it a point to connect with all of them. It was their collective concern for her and her family that helped blunt the sadness she felt.
“We got to share our sense of loss and responsibility,” Wilson said. “I think the best way to heal is to share your pain with others who understand in a trusting environment and to hear them as well.”
“I also take comfort in the condolence notes I’ve received.”
Joe Lincoln, who lost his wife, Ruth, in 2022, said reality can be jarring. “Don’t expect to return to ‘normal’ or to ‘get over it,’” he said. “There is a hole that never will be filled.”
Sometimes, he said, it will be the little things — hearing a particular song, passing a memorable place, smelling a favorite food — that reignites his grief. But then he remembers he’s not alone. “You may feel especially devastated, but the children and even close friends are struggling to adjust to it all,” he said.
Time can be an ally. “The only hope,” Lincoln said, “is that eventually, and eventually may be years if ever, your first reaction to memories will turn from a sad sense of loss to a sense of happiness that you have them.”
“We had the advantages of being with him those last days as people came to see him.”
Rovner said she was glad she planned ahead a bit and talked openly with her sister about their lives as they grew older. “I would remind her that I am the one person on the planet who has known her the longest,” Rovner said. “I also purposely took photos of her several weeks before she died. She certainly looks gravely ill, and this is a validation for me that her time had come.”
Larry Fromm’s father, Eli, died in January, and Fromm “found it comforting to reflect on his accomplishments and the impact of his life on others. … To hear and read tributes from others about what they most remember about him was very touching.”
“Finally,” Liz Loewy said, “if all else fails, have a cocktail in their honor.”