The methodology of consolation

I stood next to his body with my hand on the back of a woman I’d only met once before. I didn’t even know her first name. I just knew her as his mother.

There’s no way to do that right. It’s impossible to properly console a mother who is crying over the loss of her son, her only child, her best friend. Crying’s not the right word. This was a complete and utter loss of all emotional faculties. Up and down my hand went on her back. A constant rhythm. That’s all I could think of. Up and down. Up and down.

Trying to give her privacy, I stared intently at the cabinet against the wall, filled with medical supplies. In the glass, I caught the reflection of his face, waxy and still. I heard her talk to him, telling him who she notified and how his son will be fine and how she’ll be strong because she knows he would want her to be. And I heard her deny it over and over again, repeating the word no with a low staccato beat. Her face buried in the blue sheet that covered him, she moaned, a low guttural sound that echoed in my head. Up and down. Up and down.

I noticed that one of the cabinet doors was slightly ajar and contemplated walking over to close it. The more I stared, the more it bothered me. Why didn’t somebody close that fucking door? The rest of them are closed and how hard is it to close. one. door? And the sheets? Why were the sheets wrinkled? Hadn’t anyone thought that the sheets should be nice and neat? Without thinking, I reached out to straighten the sheet in front of me. My hand touched his covered body. It was very solid and felt cool to the touch. And it felt wrong. So wrong.

Suddenly, I was ready to leave. If it wasn’t for my hand on the back of this woman I didn’t know, moving up and down, while she said goodbye to her son, a friend, I would have been gone. Instead, I breathed and looked him in the face and listened to her words. I felt her love and her grief and her pain and her misery as if it were my very own.

And I stood silently and like a statue, if not for the arm moving up and down, up and down, until she was done saying goodbye to her only son.

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59 Responses to The methodology of consolation

  1. Dawn says:

    fucker. I’m never looking at your balls again. *sob* *sob*

    Reply

  2. I’m so so very sorry for you, Amy, and your friend’s family.

    Reply

  3. Kim says:

    I’m speechless. I’m sorry for the pain.

    Reply

  4. gorillabuns says:

    man, this is not what i expected. i think i hear a little PTSD calling my name.

    Reply

  5. Zoeyjane says:

    I never expected that you would write a post that would make me cry.

    I’m so sorry.

    Reply

  6. Miss says:

    I’m sorry Adam. Nothing I say can make it better but you, Amy, and that family are in my thoughts.

    Reply

  7. Valerie says:

    We extend our condolences to Amy’s friend and her family. That is a terrible tragedy.

    Reply

  8. Faiqa
    Twitter:
    says:

    This is so sad. I’m so sorry about all of it.

    And, I never thought I’d write this in a comment section, and certainly not in yours, but ::hugs::. I’m proud to be your friend.

    Reply

  9. Chibi Jeebs says:

    I’m so very sorry for your loss. You’re all in my thoughts.

    Reply

  10. Honeybell says:

    You my friend, are a good man.

    My condolences to his family, as well as the both of you.

    Reply

  11. dude…

    She will remember your kindness for the rest of her life.

    That is the mark of a real man.

    Reply

  12. Miss britt says:

    Beautifully written, Adam.

    I’m so, so sorry it could be written at all.

    Reply

  13. Shauna says:

    Adam,

    This is so beautifully written. What a tragic story. So sad.

    She was lucky to have you with her.

    I hope his family finds peace.

    xo

    Reply

  14. sue says:

    I’m so sorry. This was a beautiful post.

    Reply

  15. Hilly says:

    I’m stunned and saddened and wish that this hadn’t happened. This is a beautiful post, Adam and my love continues to go out to the people involved. Again, I am so sorry.

    Reply

  16. Karen says:

    You stayed because of her and immersed yourself in a moment that would have otherwise passed you by. Your recantation of the story had me there too. I’m profoundly moved. Thank you for that, and I’m sorry.

    Reply

  17. Trishk says:

    My prayers and thought are with you and the family. *hugs*

    Reply

  18. I’m so sorry Adam. My heart goes out to his family. If you need a shoulder, I’m here.

    Reply

  19. Foo says:

    So sad…so real…so raw…sorry for you, Amy and everyone touched by this. Hugs to you all.

    Reply

  20. leel
    Twitter:
    says:

    wow. im so sorry for your loss. Im also thankful for people, men, like you. there is no doubt in my mind that his mother will forever be thankful for your presence and love in that moment. sometimes, its the hand of someone we dont know well rubbing our backs that get us through the worst moments of our lives. know thats what you did. and thanks for sharing it with us.

    Reply

  21. Finn
    Twitter:
    says:

    There is nothing else you could have done short of bringing him back for her. You were there, giving a little of your strength so she could get through the first part of this horrible journey she’s on.

    And I could see myself in what you wrote. I’d have been looking everywhere but at the body and that cabinet door would have made me insane but provided a blessed distraction from what was really going on.

    I am sorry for your loss. And hers.

    Reply

  22. Oh Adam. I am so very very sorry. I wish there were words to make this easier for you, for this family.

    You’re a really great friend. *hugs*

    Reply

  23. perpstu
    Twitter:
    says:

    What you did was perfect. You let her know you were there for her and that’s what matters. I’m so sorry for your, Amy and the family’s loss.

    Reply

  24. cat says:

    That is a beautiful and poignant piece. I’m so sorry for your loss.

    Reply

  25. Grumble Girl says:

    I am so terribly sorry. You’re a good friend, Adam.

    Reply

  26. Amo says:

    This makes you one of my favorite assholes.

    Good job, friend.

    Reply

  27. I’m so sorry for you and Amy and his family.

    Don’t ever call yourself selfish again. You may be the most un-selfish person I’ve ever met. She wasn’t alone, because you gave another piece of yourself yesterday.

    Reply

  28. CP says:

    When I lost my son 14 years ago, I remember a nurses aide coming into the room as I held him. She did exactly what you did; stroked my back as I held my boy for the last time. And, although I wasn’t aware of the gesture at the time, years later, that healing touch would resonate with me. I never knew her name. Never saw her again. But in those final moments, she helped me to heal.

    There is nothing in the world more isolating than the loss of your child. You feel alone, disconnected. No longer part of the human process. You gave that mother a tremendous gift by simply touching her and allowing her to feel human contact in her moment of grief and despair.

    When her pain subsides, many years from now, she will remember that someone was standing alongside her, simply allowing her to be.

    Reply

  29. Lisa
    Twitter:
    says:

    Adam, this was so beautiful – both what you wrote and what you did. My heart goes out to you and Amy, and to the family of your friend. That mother is probably very thankful for your presence, that she didn’t have to be alone for one of the worst moments of her life. Thank you for sharing this with us.

    Reply

  30. Jay
    Twitter:
    says:

    The people I remember most from the days after my dad died are the ones that I didn’t really know and didn’t have to be there, but they were. Being willing to do the right thing when you don’t really have to and could avoid it is a sign of a good person.

    Reply

  31. Robin
    Twitter:
    says:

    What you did was the best thing for her. At least she wasn’t alone.

    Reply

  32. Tug says:

    I’m so very sorry, and my prayers go out to you all…you did all that you could do, and although I could NEVER speak for the mother, I have a feeling it was greatly appreciated.

    Reply

  33. You were there. Imagine what that meant to her, whether you “know” her or not. You were there.

    I’m sorry for your loss, Adam.

    Reply

  34. Fantastagirl says:

    It doesn’t matter that you don’t “know” her. What mattered? In this great time of need, you were there. At a time when most don’t know what to do, you stepped up, and did what needed to be done.

    I’m sorry for your loss, and her loss. (A mother should never have to bury a child, it’s just not right.)

    Hugs to you.

    Reply

  35. chrissi says:

    xoxo

    My heart hurts for those who are touched by this.

    Reply

  36. It’s hard for me to comment on this post.

    But as a mother who lost a son, I’ll just say thank you.

    Reply

  37. bubblewench says:

    Wow. Sorry I’m behind. SO SORRY for your loss and pain. You are amazing to just be there for her.

    Reply

  38. I am so sorry for everyone that knew him. Heartbreaking.

    Reply

  39. Zakary says:

    You did the right thing, a true friend.

    So very sorry.

    Reply

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