Healing hearts
Practical advice for helping bear the burden of grief
By Louise Hammell ’95

t was as if someone shot a hole in my heart the night my 17-year-old son, Matthew, was killed by a drunken driver. However, my heart has healed quite a bit in the seven years since then. Because I’ve been there, I know the pain is so great that few words can comfort a grieving parent. Yet I do have some advice for family and friends of those grieving and some insight for those who have lost loved ones themselves.

When others grieve
First, friends are often afraid to approach someone grieving for fear of saying the wrong thing. Don’t worry about what to say, just be there. I can’t remember anything anyone said to me those first few days, but I do remember who came to visit. Their presence, hugs and tears spoke louder than words.

Be sensitive to their needs. They may lack the ambition to cook for a while, so bring food. Offer to iron their clothes for any services they will have to attend and clean their home if people will be coming over after the funeral or services. Send something to the family’s home: so many people sent plants, flowers and fruit baskets to our home that we felt visibly surrounded by their love and support. We even received a tree to plant in our yard, which made a more lasting memorial. We call it Matt’s dogwood tree.

Take your cues from the family. If you see they want to talk about their loved one, be a good listener and chime in. All I wanted to do was talk about Matt and I loved hearing stories about him from his friends. Young people, be there for your friends when they lose someone. Not only do they need the support, but parents are often too distraught and lack the strength to comfort the other children.

Lastly, don’t stay away! We were surrounded by people the first three days but almost no one came over to visit after the last service. I understood that they probably felt awkward and didn’t know what to say, but if ever we needed their love and support it was that first year or so. Don’t hesitate—go! Take your friend to lunch, have them over for dinner or just go and visit. Again, it’s not the words from your mouth, it’s the love from your heart that will bring healing and comfort to your grieving friend.

When you grieve
Communication is one of the avenues from which healing comes; the lack of it may hinder the healing process. I remember the night just a few months after Matt died that my husband, Ron, said to me, “We’ve got to stop talking about Matt, put it behind us and move on.” Now, my husband, whom I love dearly, has always been that ‘pull yourself up by your bootstraps’ kind of guy. But I didn’t feel that way at all. I wanted to talk about Matt and I told him that shutting out the subject wasn’t good for his emotional healing. A few days later we were visiting with the parents of Matt’s two best friends. They couldn’t stop talking about Matt; they were still in pain. On the way home I turned to Ron and said, “Well, if they still feel free to talk about Matt, how much more should you—you’re his father!” He instantly realized the truth of that, and we have been talking and healing ever since.

Because everyone grieves differently, compromise may be required. My husband and I needed to have pictures of Matt all over the house. After several days my middle son, Curt, said he couldn’t stand seeing Matt’s picture everywhere he looked. What we needed was painful for him. So we compromised and took down some of the pictures. A couple weeks later, Curt, who had shared a bedroom with Matt, wanted to change the room completely. He wanted to take away everything that reminded him of his brother—which meant I could no longer look into that room and see any sign of Matt ever having lived there. That was very painful for me, but it was what Curt needed; I had to give permission. I cried the day he did it. The room was different, the walls, bed, quilt, curtains were all different, but so was Curt. He seemed to have a peace he didn’t have before. Compromise can be tough. It’s harder to give when you’re in pain, but the result is worth it.

During our time of grief we are so prone to look inward, think of ourselves and brood—it’s only natural. Every once in a while, though, a thought might cross your mind to reach out and do something for someone else. When it does, go for it! It will lift your spirit, even if just for a moment. For us, in the beginning, it meant things like making copies of pictures of Matt for all his friends and teammates and starting an annual ‘Team Spirit Award’ for deserving players on his school’s baseball teams.

Later on, when the time is right for you, you may want to get involved with something meaningful, related or not, to your loved one’s death. Our son was killed by a severe repeat-offender for drunken driving, so three months after his death, we felt compelled to get politically involved (New Jersey now has a tougher repeat offender law for DWI). For others it has meant joining in the fight for cancer. And for those whose loved one’s death wasn’t connected to a ‘cause,’ it just might mean getting involved with people, be it a support group, place of worship or other helpful organization. As you reach out to bless others, you’ll find the hole in your heart will slowly begin to shrink.

When grief gives way
Grief has to take its course, but please don’t let regrets drag it on longer than it already has to go. Unless your relationship with your loved one was perfect, you probably have at least a couple things that sting your conscience. Matt and I were close, but I had two regrets. The first was an incident that occurred a few months before he died. I lost my temper with him and said something I shouldn’t have. I can’t remember if I went to him later and apologized. Second, because of going back to college at Rowan part-time, I didn’t spend as much time with my children as I would have liked. It finally dawned on me one day that carrying this burden was hindering my healing.

At last, I did three things in order to be free. First, I realized that if Matt were here now and I asked him to forgive me, he would—in a second. Next, I asked God to forgive me. Lastly, admitting that no parent is perfect and that we all make mistakes, I forgave myself and let it all go. Since then, I try to only remember the good times—that’s what Matt would want me to do.

People have often asked me, “How do you get through something like the death of your child?” It was one day at a time for those first couple years, or so, but each new morning God gave me grace enough for that day. I’ve often described it like this: Picture a woman standing alone in a dark room, crying her eyes out. Now picture another woman standing in a dark room crying her eyes out, but her loving Father has his arms around her, holding and comforting her. My faith gives me the hope that I will see Matthew again. My joy has been restored; my peace never left.

Louise Hammell ’95 frequently speaks to individuals convicted of drunk driving and other groups. She is writing a book, That You May Know God has a Purpose. A wife, mother and grandmother living in Tuckerton.