My (retired) Dad had just died. It was at a military facility in the San Antonio area. He had recently had back surgery but an undetected infection developed (not related to the surgery area). Less than one day after checkout while at a rehabilitation facility, my Dad's blood pressure suddenly dropped through the floor. Sepsis. They could barely get him back to the hospital alive. My Mom called us and told us that we had to come immediately to say goodbye to Dad. I was in WV at the time and the nearest major airport was in Pittsburgh. I couldn't book a seat to San Antonio the next day; I could get one with 2 connections early the following day.
There was no hope for recovery; internal organ damage was too great. My Dad, a devout Catholic, did not want extraordinary means to prolong his life, but one of the things medical technology could do is give us is the chance to say goodbye. But less than 2 hours after my plane touched down in San Antonio, my Dad died. He couldn't talk (tubes down his throat), knew I was there, and his eyes followed me as I went from one side of the bed to another. All of us were there (except for my baby sister, but she had been there through the surgery and discharge). The military staff was great, although I wasn't not happy with his nursing care (responsible for the infection). Mom really didn't want to revisit the issue; it wasn't going to bring Dad back.
So while we're all processing this, with Dad still in the hospital room, some government bureaucrat is pulling Mom and us into a nearby room, where he actually brings up getting the paperwork done for stopping government checks/benefits for Dad, a USAF retiree who later worked for the USPS. (Of course, Mom was eligible to survivor benefits. Now don't get me wrong; I know there's paperwork to be done, but her cheeks were still wet from the tears shed seeing the love of her life die. What kind of miserable bastard does this? There was a part of me that wanted to kick his ass over his lack of sensitivity. Oh, the bureaucrats will tell you there's no better time than the present. But as a former military wife, Mom knows all about government paperwork, trust me. He was talking about getting multiple copies of Dad's death certificate for various government needs. All for the convenience of the State bureaucracy. Oh, we had other unpleasant things to do: find a funeral home (the one nearest our home was already booked), pick out a casket, make arrangements for a funeral mass and to ship his casket to a family plot in Massachusetts. But for God's sake, have the human decency to give a family time to cope with their grief before bringing up the demands of the State. None of us had even eaten lunch yet (my plane touched down at noon that Wednesday; less than 2 hours later, my Dad was dead).
Nothing really prepares you for that. I got a Monday evening call from my Mom; at one point in her conversation, she's rushed out of the room while they work on my Dad. I thought I was going to hear my Dad die over a phone call; and there's nothing you can do a thousand miles away from being able to hold and comfort her. This was an utter shock; the last I had heard was positive news about being discharge. Well, here's a hint: he didn't develop an infection during the few hours he was at that rehab facility.
But here's another story involving close relatives. A very close high school friend of my mother met her future husband, my uncle, at my parents' wedding. Less than two weeks ago, my widowed aunt, living alone in the family home, suffered a massive stroke. One of my cousins found her hours later and called for an ambulance. (My aunt passed about a week later in a hospice surrounded by all my cousins.) A neighbor from across the street had noticed the commotion of the ambulance and asked one of my cousins about it.
It turns out that the head of the household is a local Protestant minister. My cousin didn't really have expectations when she went across the street some time later to discuss the tragic circumstances of her Mom. I do think she expected more of a sense of empathy, compassion, and comfort. "Do you know what he asked me: 'What are you going to do with the house--rent it out? Sell it?'"
I guess common sense isn't so common. I don't necessarily expect for people to come up with the right thing to say, but here's one way guaranteed not to go over well, "I know how you feel." Don't make it about you, and don't be presumptuous. Less is more. Being there at the viewing, the funeral mass, or the graveyard service speaks volumes; reassuring hugs, a positive memory of the loved one, he or she made a difference to you, thoughts and prayers
