JKF Journal: What to do with condolence letters?

Friday, April 9, 2010

What to do with condolence letters?

A few weeks ago a friend told me about a book called The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. It was a clever little book with lots of tidbits on things that make us happy- one of which was doing something that you have been putting off for a long time, like putting together scrapbooks. Each of my children has a baby book except for Sam, who is now eight years old. His book was my first priority. So, feeling inspired by The Happiness Project and knowing how great I would feel if I completed this nagging task that I had been putting off for years, I gathered the boxes of pictures that had been sitting on a bookshelf. Then I went into every room in the house and gathered the stragglers- the pictures the children had snagged from the boxes over the years. I put them all in the dining room and started sorting and filing just as The Happiness Project suggested. After a little while Sam and Eva came to hep. Jack moved his homework into the dining room and we all started going through the pictures.

One of the boxes contained the condolence letters that people had written to us when Josie died. I had not looked at these letters in over eight years. Eva, who is now twelve, started looking through some of them. She was three when Josie died and I don't think she remembered much. I watched her as she read one and then another. I wanted to somehow casually take the letter from her without making a big deal. I didn't want her to read them. I didn't want her to know about all of that horrible, sad, grieving condolence letter stuff, but I didn't take them away. I let her read. After reading a few she dumped them all out and put them in a neat pile, and then went outside to play basketball with Sam.

I picked up the letter she had placed on top of the pile and began reading. It was as if the piece of paper had come to life. The words threw me right back to those awful weeks and months. It all came back- that horrible feeling of loss and helplessness. I put the letter down and looked at the pile and then I looked over at the fire burning in the fireplace. I wanted to lay them one by one in the flames and be forever done with all of that sadness. I decided that before I destroyed the letters I needed to think about it first.

I've been thinking and pondering for the past week and I still don't know what to do. I've even asked other people their thoughts on the subject. What happens to condolence letters? How long should we save them? A part of me wonders if it would be healthy to get rid of them, to close the door on that part of life. Why save something that brings back such sad memories? It's not like they are photographs- snapshots into a life that once existed. Those I would never throw away. The letters are just pieces of paper with sad, depressing words- words I don't want to read again.

But then a part of me thinks I should let them be, and I don't know why. Would my children ever want to read them? Would their children? I don't know. I decided I should ask my husband Tony. His response: "I never knew we still had them." In his mind they had been tossed years ago. Hmmm, this seemed like more of a reason to get rid of them.

I needed to ask another mother who lost a child. My friend's son died twenty years ago. She had kept the condolence letters in a box in the attic and never read them. Every few years, she would go to the box, take a handful out, and put them in the trash. Five minutes later, she would go back to the trash, pull them out and return them to the box in the attic. "I don't know why I do that," she said. "It just feels weird throwing them out."

I'm still sort of wondering what to do. The letters are upstairs in the hallway waiting to be placed back in the attic for another eight years. Or perhaps they will go into the trash. The Happiness Project does say to get rid of clutter, but maybe clutter is not the right word here. The letters are a different type of clutter which I can't quite explain. For now, I walk past the box of letters in the hallway and wonder what other people have done with theirs.

Labels: by Sorrel

23 Comments:

At April 9, 2010 at 8:50 PM , Anonymous said...

My friend made a post on FB re: your book. She experienced the horrendous loss of her own child this past summer.

So, I read your blog (I am also an R.N.) and mother of two small children. Therefore, I was interested on many levels.

First, I am very sorry about the loss of your daughter. No words can ever heal such a wound, but please know others (even strangers) care.

Next, with your most recent blog I noticed you were struggling with what to do with your condolence letters? I went into Borders today to buy Josie's story (they did not have it), but on my way out I saw a book about the condolence letters sent to Jackie Kennedy when JFK was assasinated. And, you came to mind...what about publishing another book with those letters?

I wish you the best and thank you for bringing this sensitive and personal story to not only health care professionals, but mothers.

Best,
Jennifer Farrell Engebretson
Boston, MA
At April 21, 2010 at 8:29 AM , Cathy Saski, RD said...

Sorrel,
I too have kept the condolence letters I received when our Joshua was taken away from us. I just recently found them again and started to go through them. You are so right when you talk about feeling again the first heartache and anguish - just like you did when the grief was fresh. It quite literally takes your breath away. But for some odd reason, it is something that you need to hold onto - because by letting go of the letters, you are somehow letting go of the memories sorrounding your child. I plan on keeping the letters for my girls so they can read them when they get older. It is a part of our history and apart of how we live life - even now. I think it is cathartic to look at them every so often to see how far you have come as a family emotionally - and how well you have come through the loss of your child.

Every once in a while I come across someone who hasn't heard about Joshua and what happened to him. When I find myself telling the story - I often marvel how I can just say it without feeling the overwelming emotion that I did when it first happened. I am no longer in tears - or at least at first (depending how the person I told reacts). People's first reaction is - "how are you able to go on"... I think the answer is that we become strong - and our faith gives us that strength. Those letters remind us of the people who care for us - and they always keep us in their prayers.

So, I guess my thoughts are - hold on to the letters. And don't feel badly about it. Please know that you are in good company!

Take care my friend!
Sincerely,
Cathy Saski
At April 21, 2010 at 12:53 PM , MB said...

It's only been a little over a year for us but I still have everything, too. They are in the same place that they started, in a pile on the top of our games and toys cabinet. I think I will eventually put them in the file box where I was keeping all of Mason's keepsakes from childhood.
At April 25, 2010 at 8:57 PM , Anonymous said...

Dear Cathy,

I think you are right. It is a part of our family's history. Yes, I will hold on to them. As I talk to more people who are in our shoes I realize that holding on to them is the best thing to do. I like your comment that by reading them we can see how far we have come. Thanks Cathy for sharing your advice.

Sorrel
At May 28, 2010 at 6:20 PM , Anne Marsh said...

My father died twenty-nine years ago and my mother thirteen years ago, but I have shopping bags [we're classy collectors in my family :)] full of the letters and florists' cards and other bits and bobs that people sent or brought before, during, and after Daddy's and Mom's deaths. Even after all this time, it's nice to go back and remember how wonderful it was to have all those dear friends around us, for a couple of the best parties our family ever had [although the guests of honor were missing, at least physically]. Of course, even after all this time, the correspondence has the power still to bring me to tears [even writing this does it!], but it's easier all the time. Never easy, but easier. Don't get rid of it -- your children will someday want to know how others reacted to your loss.
As to what happens to the correspondence about my parents when I'm gone? SEP [someone else's problem], since I have no kids!
At July 6, 2010 at 1:44 PM , Susan said...

Sorrel,

I read your book a few weeks ago and can relate to the agony of losing a child.

Our youngest daughter was stillborn 11 years ago. I have a Rubbermaid tub filled with memories of Madeline. We have so few items to save that the letters of condolence fill a large part of the box. I open it every year on her birthday and read the letters.... one way I honor her memory. Sometimes, other family members join me and other times, I do it alone. It seems crazy to some, but it comforting to me.

We also honor her short life by purchasing gifts at Christmas for a needy child who was born the same year.

The pain of the loss never leaves. We just find ways to move on with life, enjoying the people still with us.
At July 9, 2010 at 11:16 AM , Anonymous said...

Dear Jennifer, I am so sorry to hear about your friend. I hope time has been good to her. Thank you for your comments and I will pick up the Jackie Kennedy book. It is so nice to be able to throw a problem or a thought out into cyber space and then to get such great suggestions. I hope all is well and thanks again for the suggestion. sorrel
At July 9, 2010 at 11:20 AM , Anonymous said...

Dear MB, I am sorry for your loss. I think we hold on to it all. Maybe sometimes move it around and sort through it..... thank you for your comment and my very best to you. Sorrel
At July 9, 2010 at 3:40 PM , Anonymous said...

Dear Anne, Yes, you are right. It seems that everyone I am hearing from and everyone I talk to say the same thing-hold on to it all. I will do that and I am glad in my moment of weakness, a few months ago that I did not throw it all out. It would have been selfish of me. Thank you Anne. Sorrel
At July 9, 2010 at 3:47 PM , Anonymous said...

Dear Susan, Thank you for your comment and I am sorry for your loss. I think that is a really nice idea-to bring the letters out on her birthday and look through them as a family. Josie's sibling are now 16, 14, 13 and 8. They have never seen the letters. Her birthday just passed-July 1 and we really didn't do anything at all. For so many years I wanted to put that day out of my mind and now I wish we did something special as a family to remember her. Next year I will pull all of the letters out and we will go through them. I also really like your idea of giving gifts that would have gone to her to a needy child. Thank you Susan for sharing your thoughts with me. My very best to you. Sorrel
At September 28, 2010 at 11:35 PM , Anonymous said...

Sorrel, these posts were in July, and it is now September, but I was reading (and crying) through your blog and wanted to mention something about birthdays. Every year on my dad's birthday, we hold a small "celebration" of his life. We make a cake, maybe put a few pictures of him on the table, and my kids write messages to him on helium balloons. Afterward, we send the balloons up to heaven...to Poppi. Sometimes it's simple and short, sometimes we talk about him (which is still very hard for me), but I always feel thankful that we were able to remember his life and my kids watch the balloons until they know they're safely on their way. My thoughts and prayers are with you...no amount of time takes away all the pain and there's no right way to grieve. Keep your letters for as long as you need them; they're part of your history and part of your story. My very best thoughts and wishes to you and your family, Jen.
At September 29, 2010 at 12:16 PM , Anonymous said...

Dear Jen, Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. I am holding on to it all. I came close to throwing it all away a few months ago and then I wrote this blog. I am glad I held on to it and I appreciate all of the good advice. You are right. It is part of the history of a family. My best to you and thank you again. sorrel
At November 8, 2010 at 3:46 PM , Anonymous said...

I'm currently reading through your book and as the mother of 2 small children I cannot imagine the loss you and your family have been through. I also can't imagine having your strength - you are an amazing mother and woman who has taken your hopes to save thousands of people and made it happen!

I've never experienced a loss such as yours, but I have boxes of letters, pictures, anything and everything you can imagine from when my husband served overseas for 2 tours. I have every intention of putting them in some kind of a scrapbook, but I don't want everyone to be able to read them - I don't even want to read some of them. I guess it would just simply be for their own preservation so one day maybe our children can read them. Every now and then we go back through and read a few, and I feel the same emotions I did as the day I wrote them.

Thank you for all you're doing to make health care safer for me and my family.
At November 29, 2010 at 2:41 PM , Nadine Skinner said...

I just read your book, and as a physician, I have seen the strides over the last few years in patient safety. I truly believe that God is using your experiences for His mission. I was once told that if you don't experience defeats, then you will never know the blessings. And your story is proof of that. I pray that God's love will continue to be with you as you continue to heal.
At November 30, 2010 at 12:58 PM , Anonymous said...

Dear Nadine, I like your thought--"if you don't experience defeats you will never know the blessings." I think you are right-I believe that. thank you for being a doctor. Thank you for all that you do. sorrel
At February 1, 2011 at 3:25 PM , Anonymous said...

Having lost a sibling I would speak on behalf of your other children and vote to keep the letters. Some day Josie's siblings may feel an incredible since of loss that they can’t define - not from what they had and knew, but because of what they didn't have and can’t remember. I think these letters may be a source of comfort for them. My sister's friends made a scrapbook of letters and while I don't read it often, it is a treasure.
At February 2, 2011 at 10:55 AM , Anonymous said...

Thank you for your comment. I appreciate your perspective and am sorry for you loss. I like your comment, "not from what they had and knew, but because of what they didn't have and can't remember..." You are right. I will never throw them out. thank you again for sharing your thoughts. sorrel
At March 28, 2011 at 7:58 PM , Nancy Ewing said...

My first baby died almost 33 years ago due to a cord accident. I have kept all my letters and cards as it is all I have to verify her short existence. It reminds me that there were many who were so kind and caring and acknowledged her as a member of our family. I have nothing else to remember her by - no pictures, just a tombstone. Throwing away her things would be the same as burying her again.
At March 31, 2011 at 10:20 AM , Anonymous said...

Dear Nancy, I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. I think you are right-it is a part of what is left. My very best to you. sorrel
At April 12, 2011 at 8:48 PM , Tina Jackson said...

I have a memory book of my father which includes the eulogy I wrote and delivered. Every year for 11 years now I pull it out and read everything in it while I cry. But the tears of sadness are now accompanied by tears of pride for having had him as my father, and for the honor and privilege of being HIS daughter. I did not receive many cards or letters, my mother did. But if I had, they would be in that book and I would read each one of them knowing how much they cared about him and me. I know this blog has answered your question but I felt compelled to write also because I am a nurse of 25 years and teach critical care in a Pa. hospital. I have been deeply and directly involved in the "CUSP" project and diligently striving to eliminate infections at our hospital for more than 2 years now. I have had the privilege of meeting Dr. Pronovost at our conference last year. Also, I have built into my curriculum a patient safety day which includes the 32 min. video of his lecture to the new residents at Hopkins in which he delivers a moving and inspiring message about being human and working together to change the culture of safety. Of course, as you know, his message is built around Josie's story and your campaign to eliminate patient harm and improve patient safety. I am honored to be a small part of your campaign and to send the message on to all of the new nurses who come to work in our hospital. Your daughter will always be remembered by all of us and thousands more who never knew her. Those cards symbolize a courageous journey you've taken and the life of a little girl who had the privilege of being your daughter and you, the honor of being her mother. Take care, Tina
At September 28, 2011 at 7:36 PM , Wendy Avery said...

Sorrel,
It was great to have lunch with you yesterday at St. Jude before you spoke.
In you, I also see myself. Even though Josie and Nick died in different ways, we are both bereaved moms who now have Josie and Nick shaped holes in our hearts forever that no one or nothing else can fill.
I, like you, am always evaluating why I am doing what I am doing at St. Jude. Everytime the answer comes back...to help other parents who have lost or are going to lose a child and experience that same gaping hole. Maybe, in some small way, I might be a part of bearing some part of their burden of grief so that they can bear it until they are able to stand on their own two feet again.
We, too, have several big boxes of condolence cards and letters five years later and we don't know what to do with them. However, early on in our grief, my husband and I decided on a rule for ourselves. If anything comes up and we don't know what to do about it, we will do nothing until we can decide. Then we leave it alone. I suspect that the boxes of cards will be around for awhile. I do feel like I need to see them at least one more time but I haven't even had the courage to open the boxes up yet.
Thank you for choosing to use Josie's life, her death, and your loss to make the world a better place for others.

Wendy Avery
At October 27, 2011 at 5:09 PM , Anonymous said...

I'm a teacher at a national college in bristol,tn, and i teach pharmacy technician classes, and in all of my classes I share josies story, and show them the "remaking american medicine" documentary. I know people are driven to tears by this story but maybe they will think to communicate better with patients when they get out in the workforce.
-Sincerely,
Heather W.
At May 28, 2013 at 8:16 PM , androide said...

When I read your words it seems as if you were struggling with the meaning of those letters rather than the letters themselves. I think you want to get rid of them but like you said "they are other kind of cluster" they seem to represent that grief and seems like if you feel guilty of leaving those things behind. But I think it's ok. Josie will be in your memory and in your heart all you life. Also the good things that you and your husband made out of this horrible experience. You'll never forget her or the feelings you felt with her loss, but maybe getting rid of the letters will help you move forward in a healthier way.

Friday, April 9, 2010

What to do with condolence letters?

23 Comments:

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