The worst thing I could ever imagine happened almost two years ago. My dad died. And I've always felt a little guilty about what my family did after his funeral.
We had a contest to see who could hang the most spoons off our faces.It wasn't deliberate. We were drained, literally wrung dry. Our bodies were taking a break to replenish the tear supply. And my brother Ken, looking around at all our puffy faces and red, soggy noses, commented wryly that "spoons would probably really stick to us now."
That's all it took.
For the better part of an hour, we stuck spoons all over our faces. Most of us can hang multiple spoons - from our noses, cheeks and chins. I'm the champion because I can usually get one to hang from my elbow, too. My nieces and nephews, my sister and brothers, even my dad's brother Bill got in on it. Ken got really goofy and put an egg slicer on his head, the perfect accessory when you've got a soup spoon dangling from your chin. Someone got out the video camera and we filmed the "face off."
And eventually we laughed until we cried - again.
Last week I interviewed Shirley Rossa, a grief counselor who runs the American Association of Retired Persons' Utah Widowed Persons Service.
This is the hardest time of year for people who miss someone who has died. Soon television sitcoms will focus on family and friends and the "joy of the season." Advertisements will feature happy families or couples or children.
And people who are aching for someone they no longer have find the ever-present pain cuts a little deeper, Rossa said.
Somehow, though, pleasure usually manages to wriggle its way in among the misery. Then guilt sets in. How can I be enjoying myself right now? we wonder.
Rossa said accepting moments of pleasure in times of sorrow is not only healthy, it's essential. I needed to know that. And so, I suspect, do others who have been grieving and aren't sure how to do it "right."
In truth, there is no right way to grieve, no correct duration of sorrow, no guideline for getting through the inevitability of losing someone. Death probably really is the great equalizer, because we'll all lose someone dear and we'll all face death ourselves eventually.
But what are we supposed to do about the holidays? And how can we help others who are sorrowing this season?
If the bereavement is recent and raw (and for some, it may be raw for a long, long time, she said), it's important to take care of basic health issues. Loss often leads to lack of appetite or sleep. If it goes on too long, a doctor must check that nothing is wrong. Counseling or a support group may be needed.
No matter how long ago the death occurred, Rossa said, people need to talk about it - and about the person who died.
One of the kindest gifts you can give a friend who is grieving this holiday is shared memories. Talk about your memories of the person who died and encourage your friend to share hers.
Always, always, always refer to the person who died by name. To do otherwise is to deny the existence of one who mattered - and to deny the loss.
My friend Susan's father died the day before Daddy did, so we compare feelings quite a bit. When I asked recently how her mother's doing, she hit upon Rossa's last point.
"Mom's taking care of my kids this week, because we're going on vacation. It seems to help her to have something specific to do."
Rossa counsels against offering platitudes and general comments like "If I can do anything, give me a call." Instead, say, "Let's go shopping Tuesday." Or "Why don't you come to dinner Friday?"
People who are grieving often can't seem to get over sorrow-induced inertia. They generally won't call "sometime." But if they've agreed to do something on Tuesday, they'll do it.
Finally, if you find yourself with a spoon hanging from your nose, don't worry about it. Laugh a little. Celebrate the life that was.
In doing so, you'll be able to celebrate the life that still is.