Hello and welcome to Dear grief guide.
A podcast where each week I answer one anonymous letter from a listener feeling lost, stuck,
heartbroken or overwhelmed in the midst of grief.
My name is Shelby Fercitya.
I'm a grief coach and author and I'm here to help you create a life you love from the
life lost forced you to live.
Let's get to today's letter.
Dear grief guide, greetings from someplace in Europe.
I lost my best friend last May from a cardiac event.
It was totally unexpected.
She was 24 and I am too.
I had a special relationship with her.
My other friends loved her but didn't have the same bond we had.
We're all in a critical stage of our life where we're finishing graduate school and we're
starting to have jobs so between graduation parties, exams, PhD applications and long hours
in the lab were all scientists.
We didn't find the time to grieve together.
I have a sense that they don't want to do that because it's too much on top of all the
responsibilities and pressure we now have and I respect that.
Her poor family is lovely.
I keep in contact with her brother and I try to support them all but it's like pain has
built a wall between us.
Plus, I didn't get to know them very much before my friend passed so they love me and thank
me for the friend I've been for her.
But all in all, I'm a stranger to them.
So again, I back down.
Now the one year anniversary of her death is not far away.
I want to organize a picnic but I'm scared to death that no one is going to come, that no
one wants to remember our special girl with me.
I'm afraid it will devastate me and anger me.
I'm afraid that no one wants to remember my best friend with me.
How can I organize that day and make it beautiful for everyone?
And if my worst fear comes true, how can I deal with the outcome of no one coming?
You are wonderful.
Thanks a lot for the work you do.
Signed "Friendless Unicorn."
Okay, "Friendless Unicorn."
You let her brought me to tears because just last summer on the one year anniversary of
my best friend's death, my friend group and I planned a picnic for her.
We were all close to her in ways that I imagine are different than you and your friend group
and so there was a lot more kind of opt-in for participation.
It was a given that we would all be there together at the same time but we called it a
pink nick because her favorite color was pink and everyone wore pink and it was beautiful.
So I, in reading your letter, I am struck by the grief of losing a friend really young
in your 20s and wanting to do something that feels so gathering and so casual and so outdoors
oriented and so inclusive to honor her.
Like I am just sending that connecting energy to you of "I get it" across the big blue
pond that separates us from the states to Europe.
The first thing I want to tell you, if you need this as a permission slip, please plan
the picnic.
I will tell you from experience but also from being a grieving person myself that it's
very hard to be the planner and I bet you know this too that it's hard to be the person
who's orchestrating the thing.
There's a lot that's on your shoulders setting the date, setting the time, setting the place,
asking people to bring things, asking nobody to bring things because you're going to manage
all.
What decisions are you making with regard to that but let me tell you when it comes to inviting
people, especially people who are grieving your friends, your friends family members,
your friends brother, it is much easier to say yes when you are simply invited to something
that is already being set in motion.
So the first thing I want to tell you is please plan the picnic.
Be the orchestrator of the event.
Be the person who says, "Hey, I'm not sure if you've got anything planned.
I'm putting together a picnic on this date.
I hope you'll come.
We need potato salad, whatever it is.
Or just come, bring yourself, bring a photo of her, bring a memory.
We'll pop plant seed confetti and scattered all over the ground.
Whatever sort of rituals you'd like to do at this thing, issue the invitations because
I'll tell you from experience, it is so much gentler when you're grieving to say yes to
an invitation than to be asked to plan an entire day or an entire event that honors your
grief.
So if you were the person in this circle of your friends, friends and family that is willing
to plan that, that is willing to take up that mantle and walk into the future with it,
I encourage you to do so.
And I'll tell you this too, from the way you spoke about your friend group and hello to all
of your scientists friends out there.
It sounds like life was too busy at the time to mourn her in a way that felt gathering
and connecting and impactful, but I wonder if somewhere in their hearts or in their souls,
they're looking for an outlet to put that grief, even though time has passed.
And I wonder if her family feels the same way because a lot of times in the immediate
aftermath of a loss, things can feel so heavy and so busy and so unrelenting, that it feels
like the ways you really want to honor a person, like there's no room for that because everything
is going so far and so fast and so deep and so wide, that it's just too much to manage
all it wants.
So again, I encourage you plan the picnic because I can almost guarantee it.
Somebody at the time of her death wanted to grieve her in this way that felt community oriented
and connecting and held in love and to have the space to kind of rest and grieve and tell
stories and be together, but they didn't have the capacity for it at the time.
So let this year anniversary be a space where all of that gets to to stretch out its legs
and and happen.
And for you to be the orchestrator of that is such such a beautiful thing.
Your lack of better phrasing, build it, organize it and they will come.
But and I hear the fear in your question, what if no one shows up, what if I have a picnic
for one, what if no one really wants to grieve her with me in the way that I want to grieve
her, I want you to do this.
Have some sort of ritual as a part of the day that's just for you and will happen whether
or not this picnic happens so that all your hopes and dreams for the day are not resting
on others actions or lack thereof on others attendance or lack of attendance.
I probably recommend doing it first thing in the day so that you have yourself grounded
and solidified before doing a thing that you have invited other people to.
Like visiting one of her favorite places, buying flowers in her honor, telling one of her favorite
jokes to total strangers, it can be so small, but so beautiful.
Whatever it is that reminds you of your friend, do that very first thing and honor her in a way
that feels true for you and honestly in a way that only you can honor her in a way that
she would be able to see it and recognize off.
Adolescent unicorn is honoring me right now and then expand that to a larger group.
It's the put on your own oxygen mask before assisting others.
Energy, it's ground yourself in in this day first, in the grief and the weight and the
heaviness of this day first before creating a container or space for others to do the
same.
If it's a day where no one comes and you're feeling tender and guarded and heartbroken and
angry and disappointed, which is very fair and valid, I encourage you if you have the energy
to share something about your friend in a small space.
Perhaps social media, perhaps a text to close friends or a relative or a family member
that would support you or would support your efforts in this.
If you're feeling brave, if you are perhaps more of an extrovert or you want to take this
anger or this desire for connection or this frustration that no one wants to grave with
you out into the world, I wonder if you might host a picnic anyway until passers-by, people
walk in their dogs, people strolling their strollers, people who are in your vicinity.
I'm here because my best friend died a year ago today and no one wanted to celebrate with
me or no one could take off work, no one could make the time to come, no one lives close
enough in town, whatever people's excuses for opting out are.
Share that story, share why you're there, if you're feeling bold enough, if you're in
a spot where it feels safe to wear your heart on your sleeve in that way and see who shows
up in that instance.
I have been very surprised in my grief by some of the servers at restaurants who ask why
I'm there dining alone, become friends who share a free dessert with me in honor of my
mom's death anniversary.
I have been surprised at the florists who have bought flowers from on Mother's Day, who
have expressed their compassion and their love at me buying flowers for someone who's
no longer here when none of my other relatives live in town.
I have been so delighted and surprised by how in opening up my heart, vulnerable and just
saying things with honesty, not with bitterness or outrage, but just saying I wanted to do this
and no one else could come.
And then just receiving how other people show up for you because they very well might total
strangers, they very well might.
So friendless unicorn.
Your mission should you choose to accept it is to plan the picnic, send out the invites.
I'd say a month in advance if you're being generous, especially people about of town.
Say I don't know if you have plans for this day, I'm already thinking about it.
I'd love to host this will you come.
Let me know within a week or so.
I'm getting final head counts in.
I'm ordering catering.
We'll get these from a restaurant and making brownies, whatever the case may be.
And then plan a ritual for yourself too.
So that regardless of if these friends and if these family members show up for you and
for your friend on her death anniversary, that you have this pocket of space and time that
is just for the two of you that honors the allness of your relationship together because it
is worth honoring.
And then if you get the gift of that allness of your love and relationship being made bigger
by others attendance, by others participation, by other stories, by others memories, that's
the sprinkles.
That's the cherry on top, that's the add on to what you have already set in motion for
yourself.
Build your foundations first and then send out the invites.
I will be holding you and your friend so close in my heart the whole month of May.
Thanks for writing in.
I know you've got this.
That's all for this episode of Dear Grave Guide.
Thank you so much for joining me today.
If you're feeling lost, stuck, heartbroken or overwhelmed in the midst of your own grief,
check out my free workshop Grow Through Grave.
Three ways to stop feeling stuck and start moving forward.
I'll give you three easy actionable tools for navigating life after loss and show you
how you can create peace, stability and compassion right there in the middle of grief's confusion
and uncertainty.
You can find the workshop link in the show notes.
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As you never know what someone you love is going through, you can submit your anonymous
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Music for Dear Grave Guide is performed by Eddie Goldstein, editing by Ruth Spence of
Celebio.
Until next time, I see you.
I am so proud of you and the work that you're doing in the world and I love you.
As even through grief, we are growing.