Just Be Present And…
More than ever, we need people who will hold us and our stories. Many of us have been carrying grief for a long time. This grief can be heavy. Sometimes it sits on us. It weighs us down. It keeps coming, and just when we thought we could come up for air, grief grabs us again. We need to have people around us to hold us and our stories. We need people who will be present and listen. I’m learning how to do this.
The problem with listening though is that it is so easy not to do. As much as I like to believe that I am an excellent, well, better than average listener, I know that this is not always true. And I listen to people for a living. More than just receiving words and sounds, listening requires us to give our full attention to someone other than ourselves. It requires humility, curiosity, availability, and, perhaps, vulnerability. Listening draws us closer; it invites us into an intimate dance with the speaker- a dance that can be complicated when the listener is also grieving. The fundamental paradox of listening is that it requires that we bring all of ourselves to the moment and keep ourselves out of the way, simultaneously. Active listening requires us to pay attention to what is said, what isn't being said, body language, tone of voice, and more. It necessitates that we notice and honor silence- that we learn how to sit with silence. And oh, how we like to fill the silence; it makes so many of us uncomfortable.
Intuitively we sense when people aren't listening. Sometimes they are looking away, or their responses don't align with what you've said. It frustrates us when people try to finish our sentences when we are talking. Sometimes, nodding and throwing in an "mmm-hmm" here and there sound more rehearsed than it does reflective. Have you ever felt like you weren't being heard? Eventually, even when we are hurting, we will stop talking if we believe no one is listening.
When people are grieving, listening is necessary; providing answers is not. I know for many of us, fixing is what we do. We like to fix things. I mean, I want to fix stuff. But I've learned, over time, that fixing stuff ain't really my job. Listening allows me to be present, with curiosity and without judgment- without escaping the emotions present in the moment to solve a problem. In listening, we do not rush people from grief to gratitude. We listen as people describe the pain they feel as they wake up in the middle of the night to a bed half empty. We do not rush them from pain to praise. We listen to the few words they've been able to speak between the sobs and the silence. And when people are grieving, our ability to be present and just listen is so critical. It's human. It says, "I SEE YOU." When people are grieving, honoring their humanity is to hear their grief, see the grief, and acknowledge the grief. At some point, we can talk about navigating our way through and living with it. But, sometimes, we just need to listen. I’m still learning how to do this.