25/11/2024
The way we speak about death has an impact on others, not just how we talk about it but when we talk about it and with whom. The shock of hearing that someone you knew and perhaps loved has died can be absolutely devastating.
In many cases death is preceded by an illness which enables family and friends to prepare for the likelihood of loss. In my own experience sharing that end of life journey is a privilege, a sacred act when real time is suspended to a liminal space somewhere between suffering and consolation.
The irony of course is that if death speaks to us of anything it speaks to us of life and the beauty of this all too fragile existence. Some surrender to the uncertainty of the unknown and others to the certainty of their beliefs, but in the end, I imagine we all surrender to the defining essence of what it means to be human; to love and be loved.
I was reminded of this reality with the recent death of a friend. News of their passing came to me before it had been widely circulated. At the time I was faced with a dilemma which I’m sure many others have experienced, do you share the news or not?
While death is very much an everyday occurrence, it’s anything but for someone just learning that a loved one has passed. Whether the death was expected or unexpected the news is often traumatic and requires tact and discretion.
I well remember as a young reporter being teamed-up with a university trainee on work experience. We were dispatched to a major incident where a gas explosion had blown apart a house in suburban Auckland.
The media had been briefed by police of the tragic circumstances; several people had died in the explosion including a young child and for safety reasons we were to be kept back some distance from the house alongside many of the evacuated neighbours, as the leak was isolated.
As we were standing watching on, a woman came running-up asking what had happened and before I could advise the trainee to direct her to the police, he had started telling her in rather excited tones what he knew.
“ There’s been an explosion and two people have been killed”, adding for good measure the street address. The distraught woman pushed through the cordon tape sobbing that’s my home.
I was appalled, the trainee was simply unaware of the utter inappropriateness of what he’d done. He certainly hadn’t intended to cause suffering after all he was only sharing what everyone else knew. Who actually shares bad news and how that is delivered is so very important.
It doesn't change the news, nor does it actually soften the blow, but it gives us the time to prepare even if only momentarily for bad news to come. It gives us an opportunity to decide the setting and most importantly it allows us to ensure there is support on hand. Someone trusted who can show compassion and empathy.
As a journalist, transparency is one of my favourite words. I dislike the unseen and opaque and so openness is my default setting. But that’s not always appropriate when it comes to death.
Grief is a highly individual experience and differs greatly depending on our proximity to death. Were they a loved one, a relative, a close friend? There is of course no easy or painless way to inform someone of loss. But perhaps we can help prepare the person for bad news and be ready to offer the necessary support.
