Condolence letters

[mrissa]

Several people -- surprisingly many -- have asked me about this over the last few days, so I'm going to blather on for a bit: it is always appropriate to send sympathy letters or cards for someone who has touched your life. Always, always, always. You send them to the people who have suffered the most loss: spouses/partners, parents, children, and in some circumstances siblings and close friends. Use your judgment beyond the obvious relationships. Whether stepparents count, for example, depends on whether the relationship was a close one. Condolences are appropriate when you have known someone personally or through their work; it is also appropriate when you don't know the deceased but do know the bereaved.

What if I don't know the parents/partners/etc. personally? It does not matter. It is still appropriate -- I will go so far as to say that it is good -- to condole with them upon their loss. What if I know the family/partners/etc. personally and don't like them? Still. Appropriate. Really.

I don't want to intrude. People, a card or letter is a piece of paper (or, in this modern age, a set of pixels -- but err on the side of paper unless you know the bereaved well or primarily through the internet). They can put it aside and look at it later if they don't feel up to dealing with such things now. You need to write the letter, if you choose to write the letter, in such a way as not to be obtrusive or get into grief poker. But the existence of the letter itself will almost certainly not be obtrusive.

All right, so how do I write it that way? Start with the reason you are writing: "I am so sorry to hear of your loss." "I am writing to extend my sympathy to you in the loss of your mother." "I am writing to condole with you upon the death of your dear friend and cousin, Bernie." Etc. Remember that you are sympathizing with their loss. If this was not the case, you would not be writing. You are certainly allowed to claim that you share their grief. Under no circumstances should you imply that your grief is the greater. Ever, ever, ever. If you cannot avoid grief poker, do not write. If you ever say something like, "I think I was much closer to your sister than any of her blood relations," you have just failed in your mission. You are out to share sorrows, not create them. But expressing that you also feel great sorrow is good -- it's why you're writing. Just don't get into comparisons.

If you do not know the person to whom you are writing, or if you don't think they will remember you well in the confusion that can accompany a great loss, tell them how you knew the deceased. "I was in college choir with Desiree and had kept in touch with her ever since." "I have worked with Loretta for five years, and we shared a cube." "Though I never had the honor of meeting Anastasia, her songs touched me for many years."

If you have appropriate anecdotes about the deceased, share them. "Appropriate" varies according to your audience. If you don't know the bereaved very well, starting a story with, "Your daughter Josie had just left about a dozen shots of slightly used tequila on the sidewalk outside the bar, and this dude comes up to her and says..." is probably not your best bet, no matter how well you feel it captures Josie's wit and joie de vivre. (On the other hand, in some families this is exactly the sort of story that will make them smile through tears and say, "Yah, that sure was Josie!") Adjectives and general traits are also fine at this point: "Great-Aunt Beatrice was always so kind, and she made sure we children knew that she loved us very much. I always looked for her snickerdoodles at family picnics. Her smile lit the whole room." (Do not fear cliche if cliche is what you have. Better to say, "Her smile lit the room," than to let the letter never get written.)

If you do not know the deceased -- say, for example, that your co-worker's grandmother has died -- you keep it short and stick to what you do know. "I know how you loved your Saturday afternoons together," or "I know you will miss her dreadfully."

After you've told stories or described or whatever, it's time to close things off. "Again, words cannot express how sorry I am." "My thoughts will be with you and your family." If you know that you and the bereaved share a religion, now is the time to mention it; if you don't know one way or the other, remember that a condolence letter is not an evangelism opportunity for any particular belief system, and that while some people will, in a state of grief, be able to parse your religious well-wishes into something they can deal with, others will not. If you don't know, best not to get too specific. "My sincere hopes that your sister Lucia was among the 144,000 elect": no.

Do not be negative about anybody. At all. Ever. Not the deceased, not the bereaved, not people of your mutual acquaintance.

You are not required to be eloquent. You are not required to be a skilled worsdmith. If you feel that you just have no way to put your sympathy and grief into words, writing, "I am so very sorry. Word fail me. Sincerely," on a card will still "count." On the other hand, even if you aren't the best prose stylist in your particular zip code, if you can manage to write an actual letter, even a short one, please do. I have never run into a family annoyed by the fact that other people cared about their loved one and took the time to say so personally. If you have a poetic genius that is moved in this situation, by all means use it; but if your muse is silent, "I'm so sorry," has served and will continue to serve when we've all gone.

If there is more than one close bereaved person, you may end up writing more than one letter. They can have substantially similar content. You will not be graded on originality here. You will not receive rejection letters from the bereaved on your condolence letters, even if they are editors.

Anybody with other condolence letter tips, please join in here. I have deliberately kept the examples female as my own mental distancing mechanism, so that I didn't have to think about what I will write when I sit down to write to Mike Ford's family of origin when the address is available and to elisem. And yes, I am writing a paper condolence letter to elisem, even though I've seen her all week and talked to her and will hand-deliver it. I am a strong believer in condolence letters. They are a source of comfort, one of the gentle skills. But one thing they are not is easy. Many of them arrive with the ink smudged in a spot or two, or the paper blotted, because sharing vivid memories is hard, and thinking about one's own and others' pain is hard. Hard, but worthwhile.

(Please note: I am not telling you that you have to do this. I am not, as they said in the second grade, the boss of you. I'm just saying that you should not refrain from sending condolence letters out of fear that they will be inappropriate or because you don't know how to do it.)

Comments

[diatryma.livejournal.com]

Thank you for posting this. I'm a nervous person around Internet people; I feel like I know them because I read about them, but cannot declare myself a friend or acquaintance because it goes both ways. Messages and lessons like this help me figure out how not to screw up too horribly.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Sure. "I'm writing to condole with you upon your loss. I knew Livejournaler X from reading her words online, and her posts always made me think. They often made me smile, too. She will be much missed in the Random Example of Community Here. My thoughts are with your family in your time of grief. Sincerely, You."

The balance between presuming upon slight acquaintance and discounting a genuine friendship because of its medium is a tough one. But when my Gran died, we were all touched that her gas station attendant sent a card, not upset because he didn't know her well enough.

[diatryma.livejournal.com]

Some of it might be extending noninternet interactions to this medium, too; I'm pretty useless with death no matter who it is. People in my family either died before I was born or are still around, so I don't have grief training.

Relationships are hard no matter where they happen, and wonderful no matter where they happen. So thanks again.

[dd-b.livejournal.com]

People in my family died a thousand or so miles away, except for my father. And lived there, too. So I understand about not having grief training.

As is often the case, the people who worry about not intruding are mostly the ones not likely to, and the people who mostly need the advice won't take it even when it's in front of them in black and white. You could actually read over a condolence letter, even one you wrote yourself, and notice competitive grief (I like Mrissa's phrase "grief poker") and jockeying for position. Right? You already know those are wrong in a condolence letter. Right? You do not, in fact, know the departed is in a better place, right? At least not in a way you know will be acceptably convincing to the bereaved? (You personally may well believe it strongly. And if you know how the recipient of your letter feels on the topic, perhaps you can refer to the comfort of religion usefully.)

You'll do fine. And you'll contribute, marginally but as much as you have any reasonable hope of achieving, to making the central bereaved people feel a little better.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I think this is a way in which our culture is sick, frankly: that it goes out of its way to institutionally insulate so very, very many people from death and dying. People of goodwill are not trained to deal with this basic part of life, so their goodwill has difficulty actually making it to the people to whom it would be a comfort. I don't know how to fix this except a little bit at a time.

But yes, you're right: both hard and wonderful. The world is like that.

[careswen.livejournal.com]

Thank you for all this. I knew most of the etiquette, but the sincere encouragement is reassuring.

One "what if" you didn't mention, which always holds me back, is this thought: "Oh, I could write a lovely letter, but just the moment it arrives will be when she was just starting to feel a moment of peace, and I'd hate for my letter to be the painful reminder that brings back all the sorrow." I would appreciate your thoughts on this. Perhaps this falls under your response to "I don't want to intrude," but I'm not sure if there's something I'm missing. Please advise.

[dd-b.livejournal.com]

This is an argument for getting your letter written *and posted* promptly; it will then arrive as part of a great mass, and safely before they're in any danger of having any significant moments of peace.

Other than that, it's also a possible excuse for wimping out. Resist the urge.

When it comes down to it, if you manage to miss "promptly" somehow, then the fact that another person cares trumps the possible bad timing. Besides, they'll have learned how to recognize the envelopes by then, and will open it at an appropriate time.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Imagine that you have lost Michael. It's hard, I know, but put yourself in that position. Imagine what it would feel like in your mind and in your body. Is that something that is going to go away? The people who get condolence letters are the ones who are not going to get to the point where it's all really fine, like, ever. They will get to the point where they don't burst into tears at every mention of their loved one, where it isn't the only thing they think of, where it isn't a fresh grief, but it will always hurt that someone so loved is now gone.

If you followed this argument to its logical conclusion, no one would ever do anything for the grieving, "just in case it would be painful or a bad moment." And, in fact, that's largely what our culture does: leaves the grieving alone and uncomforted on the theory that the moment might be wrong. This is not a superior answer.

People often extend the offer, "Call me if you need anything," upon hearing the news. This is a good thing to do. But it's not enough. People who are grieving can sometimes muster the energy to say, "I would like to hear stories from so-and-so's high school tennis teammates," or, "Yes, what I want to eat right now is turkey noodle soup." But often they can't, or there are moments when they can't. The ability to make decisions is one of the things that is most taxed after a terrible loss. Write the letter, make the soup. Do not wait for them to say it's the needed moment, because the needed moments are so often the ones when someone who is grieving can't say anything at all.

Call me if you need anything

[scottjames.livejournal.com]

It hadn't occurred to me until you said it, but what you said about "Call me if you need anything," is exactly right.

And I would tell people to not worry about catching the bereaved at a "bad time." If it's a really bad time, they won't open the card/letter/e-mail until it is a better time.

[batwrangler.livejournal.com]

My mother died in May, there were one or two late letters that I couldn't bear to open right away, but a few days later when I was up to opening them I was very grateful they had been sent.

About a week ago, I got a particularly touching letter from someone I did not know but who had been helped by my mother. In it, she told the story of how my mother had helped her. It came on a day when I was desparately missing Mom and it was a wonderful, unexpected gift.

[haddayr.livejournal.com]

After you've lost someone dear to you, there _are_ no moments of peace. At least, not moments that can be ruined by a kind letter full of memories.

There are times when folks can't bear to read any more, or so I've heard (I eagerly read every scrap I could get my hands on after my father died), but then the person will know this and set aside the letter until s/he is ready.

[mkille.livejournal.com]

My etiquette doubt right now is how appropriate "Dear elisem, I remember you fondly from Community X many years ago, I am so sorry about your loss" would be. It doesn't seem wrong, but it doesn't seem right, either.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

That is indeed an appropriate message to send. If Community X is online as I suspect it is (as I have a guess as to what X equals, knowing you both), an e-mail message to this effect would be perfectly appropriate.

[haddayr.livejournal.com]

Actually, I had quite a few condolence letters that were similar when my dad died -- folks who didn't know him at all, but had fond thoughts of me. Part of the horror of someone close to you dying is the idea that you are completely alone on the planet. Messages just like the one you are saying help to dispel this feeling.

Thank you

[(Anonymous)]

This is lovely...

I can see how I might have sent a message to a friend I hadn't seen in years now. Since I hadn't seen her in 15-16 years, I felt that it was intrusive and very fake of me. My parents didn't understand that. They see her parents all the time, so this [demand, suggestion, news] should be just as immediate a need to me.

-- I also had absolutely no way of reaching my old friend, which I pointed out to them. (When I mentioned that I had no address, my parents didn't offer one... nor did they answer when I asked whether my friend's parents still lived at the same address.) "Hi, I heard that your grandparent died, and I'm so sorry for you..." would have worked.

Thanks.

- Chica

Re: Thank you

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

If you don't want a condolence letter to sound fake, don't say anything false in it. "I think of you all the time," for example, is unnecessary for an old friend with whom you've fallen out of touch, unless it's actually true. "We should get together sometime and catch up": not necessary. You can even say something like, "I know we haven't been in touch very often over the last few years, but I wanted you to know I was thinking of you in this difficult time." On the other hand, "I remember how excited you always got about going to see your grandparent when we were in grade school," if true, would be perfectly fine.

Since you are an adult, I don't think it's your parents' place to tell you when to write condolence cards/letters, although if they think you ought, the least they can do is say where to send them. But if you had felt moved to write this one, I don't think it would have to be "fake."

[callunav.livejournal.com]

This is really wonderfully spelled out. Thank you for writing it.

The only other thing I can think of is, "Don't expect a response." This is not like most other kinds of correspondence, where there's supposed to be mutuality. It's always nice to hear, 'Oh, thank you so much for your letter. It meant so much to me,' and you may, but the person receiving the letters is grieving, and you're trying to help, so placing demands on them is inappropriate. Quite often, no matter how much people appreciate the letters they receive (and I think people generally do appreciate them a lot), they simply don't feel capable of beginning to respond to them all, especially because each one brings the grief welling up again, when it's probably only very tenuously stashed to begin with.

[redbird]

It occurred to me, looking at this, that the one context where "I don't want to intrude" is justified is if the person who would otherwise get the letter has explicitly told you never to contact them again. Not "what if I don't like them" but "what if they don't like me?" And even then, if I hadn't been told to get out of the person's life, I might write the letter: the question would be, is seeing my return address on an envelope likely to hurt them? (It has to be there if there's any question, so they can decide when/whether to open the letter.)

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Oh, absolutely. I didn't even think of that, but when someone has said, "Never talk to me again," it is entirely possible, and worth consideration, that what they meant was, "Never talk to me again."

[magentamn.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much for writing this essay.

One of the points of condolence cards and letters is that you can put off reading them, which you are not as likely to do with email. And you can read them over, and keep ones that are especially comforting.

It is also much easier to write, rather than email or phone, to people you don't know to let them know how much you miss X. Same thing for attending funerals. Don't avoid a funeral because you don't know the family, go so that those close to the deceased know how many people from how wide a spectrum will miss the deceased. One of the better memories of my father's funeral was the owner of a restaurant he and my mother frequented showed up, because my dad was such a nice guy to everyone.

Yeah, our culture doesn't do death well.

[batwrangler.livejournal.com]

If you find yourself about to say or write anything prefaced by words to the effect of "You're probably not ready to hear this yet...", DON'T SAY OR WRITE IT.

Personally, I hate people telling me that my loved one is "in a better place now" or "is still with you". It's not that I don't cling to those beliefs, but I don't find those expressions at all comforting.

[spaceoperadiva.livejournal.com]

I have known only two people online who would become enraged if anyone ever sent them a sympathetic email, a birthday ecard, or a "hear's a link to a funny to brighten your day".

People like these are people with issues. They shouldn't get to hold all of the rest of us hostage with their poor anger management or mind games. Sure, we won't ever make the mistake of sending them another note of sympathy or encouragement but we can still send notes to the rest of the world :)

[dichroic.livejournal.com]

"Here's a link to a funny" can get really annoying if you're just one on a whole list of people to whom it's forwarded, especially from someone who sends that sort of thing a lot.

On the other hand, if someone who didn't normally send on forwards sent such a thing just to me, with a note saying something like, "This reminded me of you / I thought you'd really appreciate it" I'd be flattered they were thinking of me.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I keep a list of things people sent to me because they thought of me.

It is a very scary list.

[aranel.livejournal.com]

It is my impression that as long as you know that the bereaved is neutral or positive toward religion, "You/your family are/is in my prayers" is an appropriate thing to say, if it is true. I would obviously not say this to someone known to have negative associations with religion, or someone entirely unknown. What do you think?

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I think that's fine, if it's a known neutral/positive response.

[haddayr.livejournal.com]

Also, my father was an atheist, and I didn't even mind when folks would say to me: "he's in heaven now, with his brother," because I knew they meant well. For a good-hearted person, any well-meaning connection is going to make her feel a little better.

[zellandyne.livejournal.com]

this is wonderful.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I wish you had had less immediate experience with the topic.

[haddayr.livejournal.com]

I cannot tell you how much I treasured letters from people who shared memories of my father after he died. It didn't matter how awkward they felt, or how antagonistic my relationship with them was, or how little or how well they knew my dad. Any memories at all -- scraps -- make a difference.

[reveritas.livejournal.com]

thanks for this post, mris. i'm always trying to hammer down the "Just Send It" message among my friends and people, who all want to do the right thing, but are too perfectionistic to do so (i am one of these too). this is a good reminder.

[dichroic.livejournal.com]

Mris's Guide on How to Do Things Properly

No, seriously - I'd suggest it if I didn't know you already had too many books wanting you to write them because this sort of things is very useful to a lot of us.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Well, thanks!

I think it's that I speak both Geek and Normal, and I'm used to translating.

[dichroic.livejournal.com]

Don't think that's all of it, though it may be part. Lots of people who aren't Geeky at all are bad with things like sympathy letters.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Right, but speaking Geek is the equivalent of what speaking Portuguese is for the Romance languages: it makes the others much, much easier to learn, but knowing the others doesn't help as much with it. Or so I hear; I don't speak Portuguese.

[sylvery.livejournal.com]

This is so good. So practical and wise and understanding. Thanks for writing it.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Thanks very much.