Episode 8 – Extreme Grace (transcribed)

[INTRO] 

 Welcome to the Broken Vessels podcast. This podcast is hosted by Carrie Ann Bothmer, a mother who has experienced profound grief following the loss of her daughter, Cassie. As bereaved parents, the lasting impact of losing a child changes us forever, leaving us as broken vessels in search of hope and purpose. 

In each episode, Carrie Ann and special guests will share personal stories offering insights and coping strategies covering a wide range of subjects. Carrie Ann’s desire is that through these conversations, you will find a sense of connection, understanding, and perhaps even moments of healing. Let’s take this step together, one episode at a time. 

Now here is your host, Carrie Ann. 

 [EPISODE] 

Welcome back to another episode of the Broken Vessels Podcast. Today I want to talk about something that I believe many people, not just grieving parents can relate to. Those well meaning but often painful comments we hear from others. Whether you’re navigating the loss of a child, the death of a loved one, or any significant life change, the world around you can feel like it’s shifted.

Everything becomes more raw, more vulnerable. And yet, in the midst of this deep pain, we’re often faced with words that can feel like salt in the wound. Even when they’re spoken with the best intentions in this episode. I’ll share some of the experiences. I’ve had navigating these interactions And discuss how we can protect our hearts and respond with grace This conversation is for anyone who has faced the complexities of grief or wants to support someone dealing with the profound Impact of loss.

Let’s dive in

Leaving the house in the first few months after my daughter died was incredibly triggering. The anticipation of what or whom I might see was enough to make my heart seize with anxiety. To navigate into town, I had to pass the funeral home where our daughter’s broken body was cremated. To visit my family, I had to drive by the hospice house where she spent her final days.

The grocery store? She used to work there. Starbucks for coffee? She worked there too. Even church. It’s where her service was held. It was a place filled with reminders. At all of these places, there were wonderful people who cared deeply for Cassie and our family. But I wasn’t ready to see or engage with any of them.

It was too difficult. I learned almost immediately after Cassie passed away that people often say things that, although well meaning, can be hurtful. Phrases like, at least she’s in a better place, or you’re so strong, I don’t know how you do it. Or even the simple, I’m sorry for your loss. They can sting.

Even when spoken with the best intentions. Then there were the comments that came completely out of left field. A co worker once said to me, I’m so sorry to hear about your daughter. I lost my dog a few months ago, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. Now, I love my fur babies dearly, and losing them would be heartbreaking, but there’s simply no comparison between losing a pet and losing a child.

It’s just not the same. On another occasion Someone told me I should be grateful that I have other children, which left me silently wondering which one of their own children they could live without. Thankfully, I wasn’t bold enough to ask that question. I found myself feeling angry when I didn’t hear from certain people, and upset when I did because I didn’t like what they said.

When someone would say, I’m sorry for your loss, I would nod and say, thank you. But inside I’d think, she’s not lost, she’s dead. When someone would say, she’s with Jesus now. All I could think was, but I want her here with me. I had a reaction to just about everything anyone said. Nothing seemed compassionate.

No one seemed to have the right words. Not even immediate family members. So, I hid from people. Because it was just too painful to endure. There were many interactions that sent me into a hole during the first several months. But one of the worst happened the first time I was brave enough to go to the grocery store.

My daughters, Caroline and Rose, came with me for moral support. I had tried to go alone countless times. But each time, I ended up sitting in the parking lot, unable to go inside. I was grateful that day for my daughter’s willingness to be there with me. I came with a list of what we needed and planned to get in and out quickly, but sure enough, I came around a corner and ran directly into a couple whose daughter had spent quite a bit of time with my girls during their high school years.

I couldn’t ignore them. That would be rude. And I wasn’t even sure they knew Cassie had died. So I took a breath and said a quiet hello. And the conversation began. Surprisingly, I was able to engage. I asked how they were and how their girls were doing in college. After a quick recount of their activities, the woman said, I’m so sorry for your loss.

There it was. Now, how do I respond to this? I nodded and said, Thank you so much. She then asked, How are you doing? I replied, It’s so hard. And this is where things went off the rails. She responded to me saying, Really? I’d like to think that if my daughter died and I knew she was in heaven, I’d have peace about it.

Yes. That’s what she said to me. She then went on to share that her sister in law, who lost a son to addiction, had made it her mission to help others struggling with addiction, to the point of neglecting her own family. And then she said to me, I hope you’re not neglecting your living children because you’re grieving your daughter.

At that point, I’d had enough. I looked at my daughter standing with me and said, I don’t know, girls, do you feel like I’ve abandoned you? I was ready to unload on her, but my daughters graciously helped me make a quick exit before I said something I’d well. Regret. I spent the rest of the time in the store in a state of shock, doing my best to avoid them in every aisle.

Ultimately, we left the store without groceries that day. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, and I knew I wasn’t going to leave the house again anytime soon. This particular interaction stuck with me for a long time. I was baffled by the lack of compassion and held quite a bit of bitterness towards the couple.

I prayed I’d never run into them again. I had hoped for compassion, but received judgment instead. It was at that moment I realized I needed tools to navigate this uncharted territory. There were undoubtedly going to be more interactions like this, and I needed to know how to react, what to say, and what not to say.

I began seeing a grief counselor. Together, we worked through the insensitive comments, sometimes even laughing at their ridiculousness. As my daughter Carlyanne’s wedding approached, I knew I would have to come out of hiding and engage with people I hadn’t seen since Cassie passed away. My counselor and I role played scenarios and came up with an action plan.

I designated a dear friend to be my rescuer if I got stuck in a difficult conversation. She was amazing and helped me navigate every interaction, whisking me away at just the right moments. I know I couldn’t have gotten through the wedding without her. Recently, Mark and I were invited to a surprise birthday party for a dear friend.

I knew that attending would mean seeing people I hadn’t seen in years. But I wanted to honor my friend by being there. I prepared myself emotionally and physically. But what I didn’t anticipate was walking in and seeing the same couple from the grocery store. My heart began to race, and I exchanged a look with my husband Mark, who immediately understood my anxiety.

Somehow, I had to let go of the past interaction and be present in the moment. This party wasn’t about me or my grief. It was a celebration for a dear friend, so that’s what I focused on. We didn’t stay long, but we were present for as long as we could be. Reflecting on that evening, I realized that the other couple had no idea what it’s like to lose a child.

Their words were just that, words, based on zero experience. And thank God for that. I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone. From that point forward, I’ve used the phrase extreme grace when dealing with people who are less than sensitive. This doesn’t mean their words don’t hurt or cause me to feel bitter or angry, but it does help humanize the situation.

It reminds me where my heart needs to be. I’m certain there were times when I was the well meaning person saying the wrong thing simply because I didn’t know what to say. Reflecting on the many interactions I’ve had with people who genuinely care about me and my family since Cassie passed, I’ve gained a deeper understanding of how to communicate with those who are grieving.

We are all imperfect people. Human beings living a human existence, extreme grace is required. With that in mind, I’d like to share a few insights that might be helpful when faced with insensitive comments. 1. Remember their intention. Most people truly want to offer comfort, even if they don’t know how.

Reminding yourself that their intention is to help, not hurt, can sometimes soften the impact of their words. 2. Set boundaries. It’s okay to gently let someone know that what they said was not helpful. You might say something like, I know you meme well, but that comment is hard for me to hear right now.

This can open the door to a more meaningful conversation. 3. Respond with grace. Sometimes a simple, Thank you for trying to comfort me. Or, I appreciate your concern is enough. You don’t have to explain your pain to everyone, and it’s okay to respond with kindness while still protecting your heart for redirect the conversation.

If someone says something that feels hurtful. Try redirecting the conversation. You could share a memory of your child or talk about what they meant to you. This can help shift the focus to what you need in that moment. 5. Allow yourself to feel. It’s normal to feel hurt or frustrated by insensitive comments.

And it’s okay to feel those emotions. Give yourself permission to experience whatever comes up without judgment. And 6. Have a support system. 6. Be sure to surround yourself with people who understand your grief, whether that’s family, friends, or a support group. They can provide a safe space to vent or seek comfort when you encounter insensitive remarks.

Navigating grief is hard enough without the added burden of handling difficult comments. Remember, it’s okay to prioritize your own healing and protect your heart from anything that doesn’t serve it. You don’t have to respond perfectly or at all. Your well being is what matters most. As we walk this path of grief, we will inevitably encounter moments where words fail us or sting in ways we didn’t expect.

Remember, it’s okay to feel whatever you feel and to protect your heart however you need. Grieving isn’t something to be fixed or solved with the right phrase. It’s a journey that requires understanding, patience, And above all, grace, both for ourselves and for those who try to comfort us, however imperfectly.

Thank you for being here with me today. I hope this episode brings a little comfort and strength to your journey. Know that you are not alone. And together, we can navigate this path with grace and compassion, one step at a time. Be sure to share this episode with someone you think might need it. Click subscribe to hear of new episodes soon to be released.

And in the meantime, I wish you moments of peace and gentle comfort. God bless you.