Sympathy vs Empathy: What Not to Say

"Oh, Sweetie.  You lost your baby?  I'm so sorry.  I lost my dog.  I know how you feel."

Really?  REALLY?  No, sorry, you don't know how I feel.  You feel sorry for me, and that's fine.  But comparing my baby to your dog?

Believe it or not, the above phrase is said more than you'd think.  The person speaking is well meaning, but they are blurring the line between sympathy and empathy.  That is a line that should never be blurred.

People sometimes get confused between sympathy and empathy, I believe.  Deffin.com does a good job of delineating between the two (here is the link complete with examples and times to use either  http://www.diffen.com/difference/Empathy_vs_Sympathy).

According to Deffin, sympathy is acknowledging another's emotional hardship and providing comfort and assurance.  Empathy is understanding another's hardship because you've been there yourself or can put yourself in their shoes.   The problem is that some people think that they can emphasize when they really can't.

Take the example above, for example.  What if the situation were reversed?  "I'm sorry you lost your dog, Sweetie.  I know how you feel.  I lost my baby once."  I think that once the words were out of your mouth, both the speaker and the listener would realize the ludicrous nature of the comfort.  How can you possibly compare the loss of a dog, beloved though it might be, to the loss of a child?  What possible connection  can you make?  A person who lost a child may empathize, yes, but would they voice their empathy in this way?  I doubt it.  Well, if you reverse this picture, think of the jolt that the person grieving their child would feel.  Not only has the person just lost someone who she had carried inside her body, not only has she lost a cherished member of the family, but now you have just compared her baby, her son or daughter, to a dog.  I understand that you were trying to empathize, but you can't.  It's not the same.  And I guarantee you that she won't be comforted. At best, she'll see the attempt and appreciate it.  At worst, it will enlarge her grief to include anger at you.

Here is a better way to say it.  "I'm so sorry you lost your baby, Sweetie.  It's so hard to lose someone you love."  The simple sentence may seem empty to you but it's not.  You have acknowledged her grief and affirmed her right to the grief she feels.  Words are going to be empty, really, no matter what you say.  This way, she knows you care and she knows you're thinking.

Let's try another one.  "I'm so sorry you lost your baby.  But remember, you can always get pregnant again."

At first glance, this one seems like a great example of the sympathy definition.  It provides comfort (sorry) and assurance (you can get pregnant again).  But what else does it do?  It brushes past the all-encompassing fact that this mother is full of grief in order to point to a future time when this "mistake" will be rectified and result in the successful birth of a baby.  But again, the response (usually unspoken) on the part of the grieving mother will be REALLY?? I can guarantee you that your words will be unwelcome.  The mother doesn't want to think about some future baby.  She wants--NEEDS--to grieve the baby that she has just lost.  And please realize--that baby does not have to have been stillborn or have lived for a few days.  A mother will grieve the loss of any baby.  As a funeral director once said, "I have conducted services over babies that were so small that the caskets that had nothing in them."  The parents needed to grieve.  The fact that the child was a miscarriage, not a full-term stillbirth, is irrelevant.  If parents need to grieve, they should be allowed that right.  And by the way, how do you know that the mother can get pregnant again?  Aren't you making some pretty big assumptions?  I can only imagine the hurt felt by a mother who has tried and tried to get pregnant and finally conceived, only to lose the baby.  Your well-meaning words are striking another blow, not relieving the pain.

So what can you do to help the mother?  Well, that's the problem.  Our society is a "fix-it" society.  We have come to believe that if we work at something hard enough, we surely will find a way to fix it.  But this will not be fixed.  This will have to be walked through, step after painful step.  Words will do nothing more than be a temporary support--one that might not last much longer than the fragmenting air that supports it.  But--words can be beautiful, if they mean something. For example, Saying that you're sorry is fine, but saying that you're praying--it means something, especially if you follow your words with actions.  It's great to say that you'll pray, but if you text in a few days just to say that you're thinking and praying for her--that shows that you care in a way that is concrete.  You are showing her that you mean what you say.  Why text?  Well, I'm going by my own experience.  I was not able to deal with words very well.  Texting or talking will depend on your relationship and also on the woman's makeup.  You also help her if she needs anything.  But don't say it that way.  Before you visit her, decide what you can do for her and then offer to do it.  Don't say, "If you don't feel like cooking, call me and I'll be happy to cook."  She won't call.  She's in pain.  Just make up a casserole or two.  Bring them over and tell her that you'd like to bring over a meal or two a week, if that's okay.  If she seems inviting, ask if she would like some company.  Otherwise, give her the meal, tell her you're praying, and leave.  You have to realize that sometimes the grief is too great to take alone, but sometimes the grief is too great to be shared.  Everyone differs.

I've said a lot about sympathy.  Next time--empathy.

A Intro-Inspection

I have wondered about this moment
This future
Since that day at the hospital.

I left the ICU
Shellshocked
A widow.

With four children at home,
A family that loved me
I had never felt so alone.

Years passed, and I watched my children
As they grew up and moved away.
I feared, not for them,
But for myself.

I knew that they were moving onward with their lives,
Finding love and families of their own.

But I had no one.

I felt ripped in half,
And I grieved for the part of me that would never return.
I lost the only man I have ever loved,
And I wanted no one.
No one could fill his void.

As the years passed,
I began to realize a truth
That took be by surprise.

I was surrounded by love.

My children may not be near,
But I know that they care,
And that is enough.

More,
I find that I have come to understand this truth--
I don't need bodies around me to be happy.

I am perfectly happy in and of myself.
In a way, being alone is what I was always meant to experience.
Not that I want to exclude others--
But honestly,
I have excluded myself for so long,

That it is only right that I get to know that person now.

I find that I like her.
She is interesting,
Observant,
She has a lot to say,
And she wants to see her dreams--
My dreams--
Come to life.

Maybe after this season of writing is over
I will feel the need to reach out to another
And to become part of a larger whole once again.

But for right now,
I am content.
My life is not lonely.
I have so much to do
That I don't know how I could cope with another person.

And for right now
That's okay.

Holy Saturday

It is finished!
Into your hands, Father, I commend my spirit.

Up above, the words were quiet,
Spoken by a dying man into the void of a world that did not understand.

But

Down below, the words brought,
for the first time,
hope.

It was finished?
No, it was about to begin.

The Lord of All was dead.
He had been laid in the grave,
The tomb,

And now,
The work was about to begin.

Saving men from sin was one thing,
Freeing them from the power of death is quite another.

So down he went,
To the abode of the righteous--
Paradise.

The souls in hell looked on the Savior--
Amazed.
This was the man that they had heard about--
Now down in the place of the dead with the rest of them.

I am the way, the truth, and the LIFE.

No man comes to the Father but by me!

The gates of hell opened.

Who would accept the call?

Those in Paradise, of course, rushed forth.

They had known him from the beginning,

And they freely took the offered hand.

Bowing before him, they accepted his gift--

Their freedom--

He had given them a Way

And were welcomed by Truth

As they went into the Light.

And those across the chasm?

Did any of them accept the offer of freedom

For the price of allegiance?

We are not told

But we can hope….

Up above,

The world waited without hope.

Down below,

The souls flooded out,

and up

Into the gates of Heaven,

And for the first time,

The created Son of God,

Viewed the Father once again.

There was one day--

An eternity--

To renew relationships,

Be congratulated on a job well done,

Be gratefully received by those who had not followed the fool,

And to look down

Into Hell,

And see the stunned, angry face of death.

Never again would he hold dominion.

The King of Life was now King of Death as well,

For months afterward (or was it centuries?),

Death would sit, stunned, saying,

"He just left! How did he Do that?

Even I can't do that!"

And so the righteous dead were raised first.

For the rest of the world,

Those here below,

They waited

One

Day

More.

Good Friday

He came with the disciples to the garden,

and yet he really came alone.

The time was almost here,

so close that it could be felt.

Death had been introduced in the upper room,

and it followed him to the garden.

If it is your will, Abba,

remove the yoke from me.

He was all man, now.

God made man was begging--

Not for his life--

but for some way

any way

to remove the cup--

the cross--

his Father's well-earned wrath

from being poured out.

He knew from the beginning that it was not to be,

but he was all man

and so he prayed.

He asked his friends,

those who had boasted about who would sit on which side,

to sit with him and pray.

They truly wanted to,

but sorrow overtook them

and they slept instead.

What would have happened had the angels not intervened,

bringing some manna of which we know not?

Death would have won.

If there is no cross, there is no salvation.

And so he prayed, he cried out, he sweated drops like blood,

but then he gave in.

"Not my will, but thine be done."

And he walked forward and faced it all.

Judas, the priests, the judges, the scourging, 

the ignominy of a death on a cross.

Death followed him,

whispering into his ear,

"What are you doing?

Do you really believe that this will help?

These people are doomed.

They're not your people,

They're my people.

Raised on high for all to see,

He continued his journey.

"Father forgive them, for they know not what they do."

What? You want God to forgive them?  They just crucified God's son! Are you out of your mind?"

"Today you will be with me in paradise"

Paradise?  With you?  How sweet.  Have you forgotten that you will both be dead? You will both be mine! And believe me, I have big plans for you.

"This is your son.  This is your mother."

If you get down from there, think of all the suffering that you will spare her.  Is this really necessary?

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

Finally, you understand.  You are not God.  You are not even a man.  You are nothing.  If you truly are God, as you said, save yourself!

Death tried to chuckle, 

but he could hear the rumble of every Jewish heart there.

What had been started continued,

unbidden,

as it came through years and years of worship.

For the first time, they heard the breaths inside the psalm.

For the first time, they realized that the pauses--

natural rests--

were the sounds of a man breathing

struggling

on a cross.

For the first time, Death felt doubt

Could he have misstepped?

No, this was his moment of victory, 

and he was determined to savor it.

"I am thirsty."

You will be more than that in a few short hours.

Oh, what I have planned for you…

But the bravado was wearing thin.

"It is finished."

Finished?  

What is? 

Your wonderful plan of salvation? 

But the chill that was creeping over him was not to be ignored.

"Father, into Your hands I commend my spirit."

No longer did Death try to make himself heard.

It was over.

God's Son was dead.

His heart had broken.

For what?

These mice?

Eager to begin the next chapter,

Death went back to Hell,

to wait.

He didn't have to wait long.

Goodbye

It had been a month--the longest month in her life.
One month of empty arms,
Of phantom pains,
Of first seeing the empty cradle,
and then the blank spot
where the cradle used to be.

No baby.

The house was a mess.
The rest of the family was forgotten,
All that mattered was that she went to the hospital pregnant
And came back home empty.

Time ticked on, minute by minute,
Each one longer than the last.
Nothing was ever going to change.
The hole in her heart,
The ache in her arms
The seizing pain in her heart,
She was sure these would stay with her forever.

She knew she should get up.
She did have other children,
a family,
And they needed her, too.
But she couldn't.
She simply couldn't.

And so she sat in the chair,
Staring at nothing,
Until her husband took her hand
And led her to bed.
Where they lay
Two statues
Unable to come together in their grief.

Until one day…

It started prosaically enough.
She had to go to the bathroom.
To get to the bathroom, she had to pass through the dining room.
And so she did,
And suddenly she was enveloped in love.
It was electric, alive, and full of joy.

When it happened, she wasn't sure what to think.
Had she really experienced that?
Had she been--just for a moment--
more totally alive than she had been since this happened--
perhaps
since she was born?

She wasn't sure
So she tried it again.
And again.
Back and forth for nearly an hour, it seemed.

And then,
just like that
it went away.

Gone, but not fully.
Not completely.
The stillness of her heart,
The death of her soul
Was gone,
Replaced by a tiny echo of the enormity of that experience.

She began to heal.
She started cleaning her house.
She went to the kitchen and made dinner.
She took the children in her arms,
And she took her husband to her bed.

Life would return--
if not to normal--
then at least to livable.

Later, friends would ask about the change,
and she would try to explain,
but she'd always end by simply shaking her head.
How could she make them understand?
What could help them comprehend that her baby,
in that electric moment
was saying "goodbye".

Such a hard word, goodbye,
but how important to hear.
For this goodbye, she came to understand,
Was not a goodbye into the nothingness of death,
The stillness of the grave.

It was a goodbye for now,
a passage from life into new life,
And it was a promise as well.

I have said "goodbye", but someday
I will see you again,
And then I will tell you
"Hello!"

I will wait for you.
This was a promise that she instinctively believed.
And though her arms were still empty,
Her soul,
Finally,
Was full.

when you're dealing with death

In our Stephen Ministry class yesterday, we approached the topic of death--how to walk beside someone who is dying or their friends or family.  I was amazed at how many people have dealt with their own death or death of others besides parents.  Children, spouses, their own deaths that were averted--the pain in the room was palpable.  And it was a fragile time.  I saw tempers flare and tears come easily.  I've been dealing with my own anniversary of death (husband's 20th), so maybe I was less sensitive for that reason, but I was very aware of the atmosphere in the room.

I thought that some things that were said were worth repeating:

• Don't try to reason a dying person away from thinking and talking about his own death.  When they're ready, they might want to talk, and they need you to be there to listen.  Not to judge, not to talk them out of it--to listen and to affirm and to repeat their thoughts back to them so that they know that they're being heard.
• When someone is dying they go through the five steps:  denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.  They might go through one to another sequentially, but often they go back and forth and revisit the stages until they are ready to go on.  Some never get to acceptance.  And that's okay.  Don't try to hasten it along.  Don't make them live--and die--on your timetable.  It's not doing them a service to remind them that bargaining is futile or that anger is useless. God understands.  Try to do the same.
• Please be kind.  They don't need a cheerleader.  They don't need a motivational speaker.  They need someone who is willing to be there, to listen, to cry with them (if that's something you can do), and to hold them.
• Here's one that didn't come up yesterday, but I learned it and it is with me every day.  Understand that feelings may change or not be easily understood.  My husband only regained consciousness for a short while.  I know that he was happy to see me.  I know he loved me.  He seemed perfectly content to hold my hand and be with me.  But when I asked if he'd like to see his mother--he squeezed my hand so hard that there was no doubt as to who was the one he needed. I was momentarily hurt, but I was also grateful that I could do him such an enormous good by such a little action.
• Don't take the grief of the family onto yourself (this is also mine).  If you are walking with the dying person, then you will see family members and they might want to talk to you about your dying friend or family member, recruit you to speak for their point of view, or keep you from what they see as infringing on their time.  If your friend has made it clear that s/he wants you to share this last walk with them, don't bow to anyone else's wishes.  There's time enough to deal with others later.  Of course, you should always make sure that your friend's wishes are still being met.  If she's decided that she would rather be with family, then bow out gracefully.  It's their needs that need to be met, not yours.

I hope that this has been helpful for someone.  I have worked with grief for a long time, but I've never had to walk with someone (besides my husband and son, of course) who were walking the last path. I pray that when the time comes, I will be a good friend to that person.  If you are the one who is chosen to share the path, I pray the same thing for you.

to remember

"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.  Pray you, love, remember."  Hamlet, Act 4, Scene 5

Sometimes it's hard to remember.
Sometimes remembering hurts.
The little kindnesses shown,
The half-smile on the beloved's face,
The moment when you first realized that this is the last moment that you will have together
Can burn like fire when brought to mind
After death.

But love,
Remember.

Fire will eventually burn itself out
And among the embers
You will find sparks and glowing bits of memories.

The sparks leap and shine in our hearts:
The first glimpse
The first date
The first time
The kiss that spoke more than words ever could
And the promise made that you were sure could never be forgotten.

The glow sometimes is more elusive, but it still remains nonetheless:
The pleasant Sunday spent among the sheets,
Reading the cartoons to the kiddies
The whole family together and united.

The morning that you both felt sick and stayed home from work,
And so spent the day in adjoining easy chairs
Sipping 7-Up and eating crackers,
Every once in a while glancing at one another and smiling,
Content to be together even during this.

Sparks and embers, moments of sweetness,
but also moments of recognition:

That vacantness where there used to be only love,
That creeping coldness when you touch once-loving arms,
The moment you walk away from the bedroom
realizing
that you would never again come together as one.

Yes, those memories hurt.

But they're part of the fire, aren't they?

They're the ash.
They remind you that what you once had was gone.

Death has come.

Death of the beloved
or death of the relationship

And it's time to move on.

So, yes, move on,
But don't relegate your memories to some cobweb-filled back room.
For one thing, they will refuse to stay there.
They will keep inserting themselves in your dreams,
In your thoughts,

At the most inopportune time.
They cry out for you to pay attention.

So pay attention.
There is nothing to fear,
And much to learn.

Pray you, love,
Remember.