GRIEVER's EXCHANGE // Thanks, Giving
How Grievers can practice actual gratefulness this Thursday.
Some time back, I completely divested of so-called Thanksgiving. It wasn’t a popular move; I’ve found that many people will defend their right to culinary excess even while agreeing that this certain Thursday in November typically has nothing to do with either thanking or giving.1
But I’m not here to beat that drum; today I actually do want to talk about giving thanks. Shall we?
One thing I’ve learned working in death care and going to (technically working at) dozens and dozens of funerals is that grieving people are very grateful.
They know precisely how their lives were enriched by the person who died. They know exactly what that person brought into their world. They know the lessons that person shared just by being who they were. Reflecting on meaningful and impactful memories and ways in which they learned about themselves and the world through that person’s life, they’re somewhere between fortified and overwhelmed by the gratitude they feel.
Grief informs their sorrow, and it informs their hope—their will to keep going.
And very often, almost without exception, they will urge everyone gathered in the memorial hall to tell the people they love how much they mean to them and how grateful they are for them.
“Do it now,” they’ll say, “before it’s too late.”
But/and—let’s pause there, because some people are complicated. Some grief is complicated.
Sometimes the gratitude you feel in your grief is about the crystal clarity you received in seeing exactly who you did not want to be.
In any case, if you feel drawn to it, this is my message for this certain Thursday in November: Give thanks—overtly, with language and actions—not just to the people who are gathered at your table or reachable by phone, but to those who are gone.
How? Let’s talk about that by looking at just one way I’ve been reflecting on my dad, who died almost exactly seven years ago, and what I’m grateful to have learned from him.
Butch Cassidy was a person who loved kids. He found them to be the most hilarious and interesting humans, and always had time to get on their on level and speak their language. I remember kind of marveling at it from a very early age; how could this sometimes so-stern scientist also be so goofy and patient and uninterested in adult conversation?
But the older I get, the more sense it makes.
This fall, I’ve been helping my friends by caring for their two-year-old here and there, and each time I do, I thank my dad for showing me how rich a life can be as a friend of children.
As you read through the examples I’m sharing of how I might external this idea at this specific time of year, try thinking about the people you’re grieving, the things their lives gave you, and how you might adapt these ideas to fit the specific scenarios wherein your grief, love, and gratitude overlap.
SPEAK HIS NAME You know that thing they say about how a person doesn’t really die until their name is no longer spoken? I can bridge off that idea to tell my friends (the ones whose kid I sometimes care for) about how I learned to really prioritize kids and feel lucky to hang out with them by watching my dad’s action. Simple, but I bet my friends will transfer some of their love and gratitude for me and my childcare hours to Butch from here on out. As well they should.
GIVE IN HIS NAME There is an overwhelming need in the world today to help care for and protect the kids on this planet. Whether those are unhoused kids in my own city or the kids in Gaza, this presents a chance for me to honor my dad by contributing in his name. Note that both “contributing” and “in his name” can be interpreted and personalized. For example, I can protest or make calls to the government in his honor by going slowly, spending time in reflection, and really thinking about the actions I’m taking the mindfulness and intention they’re grounded in.
IN + ON THE ALTAR SPACE I’m for the kinds of altars that are uniquely our own—even when that means we’ve consciously decided to follow generations-old traditions. So, depending … I could collect some drawings that me and my favorite kid made together and group them with a picture of me and dad, from when I was a kid. Or from when he was. I can also make offerings on my altar to my dad. In many cultures, people include fruit for their ancestors—but maybe I want to offer my dad some sweets and cookies. Gifts to appeal to the kid in him, and to keep me mindful of what this specific offering was inspired by.
FOR + WITH OTHERS Maybe your family or community is one of the lucky ones, one that does in fact have a tradition of giving thanks on this certain Thursday in November. What a good opportunity to bring up the person you’re grieving, to share their name in that setting, to talk about what they brought to your life, and to invite others to do the same. OR - let’s say the folks you typically gather with don’t do the overt, around-the-table thanks-giving thing. What if you started it, this year, with your love and your grief and your gratitude? Could even be on social media. For me this might mean sharing a picture of my dad with a caption about this specific element of his life that’s on my mind right now.
TO OTHERS If it feels right to you, like it does to me, that those we’re grieving would want us to act on their behalf—to love others and be outwardly, openly grateful to them—then it makes sense that we should really use any moment and every occasion (including but not limited to this November Thursday) to make good on that. Here’s how that could look in my example: “Hey, _________, you know … I’ve been thinking about all the things dad gave me and showed me. All the ways his life positively influenced mine, and I’ve really been thinking about how good he was with kids. Remember that? Well, feeling so grateful for him, and for that part of him, has me really feeling grateful in general. And I wanted to tell you, you know, I have so much gratitude for your presence in my life. I love the way you’ve taught me about _______ and modeled so much __________ around ______ and _________. You represent ________ and ________ to me, and I really want to thank you for that.”
Well, what do you think? How will you give thanks to the people you’re grieving this year?
Photos by Chris Curry, Museums Victoria, and others via Unsplash; photo illustrations by me.
Personally, I think we should all go with what Indigenous Peoples call it (which I discussed briefly in this post one year ago), or we just rename it Colonizer Day.
Thank YOU for these rich reflections.