The Tricky Business of Disclosing Loss

Last week I went to an event at a new crafting space in my neighborhood. The entire event was centered around creating and sending snail mail. There were vintage postcards, fun stickers, new shiny gel pens, and beautiful paper. In my world, this is a dreamy scenario.

I sat down at a table with about half a dozen strangers, and together, we created. We nurtured the (nearly) lost art of connecting with others through pen and paper. As we chatted, the conversation naturally turned to, “Who are you writing to?”

One person said, “I’m writing to my sister.”

Then the next, “I’m sending this to my sister.”

And yet another, “My sister!”

And as I wrote my notes to my mom and my friends, I realized (with a heavy dose of envy) how much I also wanted to write to my sister. Except my sister isn’t alive.

I’ve shared here before about writing birthday cards to my sister, even though they are cards I can never send. As I sat around the table observing so many others writing to their sisters, I decided there was no reason that I couldn’t do the same.

I picked out a gorgeous cyanotype card, along with some kitschy vintage stickers, and I began to write. It felt nice, remembering that I too have the option to write to my sister, even if she’s no longer living.

There I was, smiling to myself as I wrote an inside joke in my sister’s card, when someone kindly asked me within earshot of the group, “Who are you writing to?”

I paused for only a moment, and then said (looking calm on the outside, feeling butterflies on the inside), “My sister.”

And then I thought, Oh God, please don’t ask me any follow up questions. Please don’t ask me anything like where she lives.

Which, of course, was immediately followed by the question “Where does she live?”

If you’re a person living with loss, moments like this can become (sometimes agonizing) decision points. 

Do you tell the truth, potentially making it awkward? Do you not, and then feel squidgy about it? Is it a betrayal of your person if you skim over the truth? Is it even worth the trouble of sharing your loss with strangers when what you really want is to have a nice, “normal,” grief-free evening?

I’m a person who usually defaults to honesty, so after a moment’s pause (during which about a thousand thoughts ran through my head), I told the truth. 

“Well, this feels a bit awkward. My sister died. Everyone else was writing to their sister, so I wanted to write to mine too. I like to write to her as a way to stay connected.”

The person facilitating the group responded beautifully, without a moment’s hesitation or awkwardness. I felt grateful, and that was that. The evening moved on, as evenings do.

But it did remind me how often people who are living with loss come up against this. Questions like, How many children do you have?, Are you married?, or What did your family do for Mother’s Day? can become deer-in-the-headlights moments.

As with all things in grief, there is no right or wrong here. Deciding when (and if) to disclose your loss to others is tricky business. As you consider when to tell and when not to tell, here are a few things to consider:

Will it make things more awkward later if you don’t share now? Sometimes evading the truth upfront can make it more difficult to do so down the road. If this person is, for instance, a new coworker that you’re going to be chatting it up with every day, it may be worth ripping off the band-aid and telling the truth instead of awkwardly backtracking later.

Are you likely to see this person again? On the other hand, if you’re just chatting it up with the cashier at the grocery store, it might be okay to be evasive or tell a white lie and move along.

Consider your resources. And by that, I mean – how will it feel to share in this moment? Sometimes we simply don’t have the bandwidth to share (because grief is hard, because we got four hours of sleep, because we just don’t want to). Deciding what to share and not share is sometimes simply a matter of what you can handle in the moment.

Deciding not to disclose is not a betrayal. It can feel like an erasure of our person to not disclose our losses, but in fact, it’s just self-protection. Living with grief is hard AF. It’s okay to take care of yourself and to express your love and loyalty to your person in other ways.

Do you truly not want to share, or are you worried about making someone uncomfortable? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with choosing not to share because you don’t want to make it awkward (living with grief is hard enough), but it’s worth knowing your reasons. There may be a time when you desire to share outweighs your desire to keep people comfortable; notice what feels true to you.

What opportunity might there be if you decide to share? We live in a world where people who are grieving often feel isolated and unseen, largely because we have such a hard time talking about loss. If you have the resources and it feels right, consider what opportunity there may be in sharing. There are people living with loss everywhere who might not bring it up themselves but would welcome the point of connection.

If you do decide to share, remember that you’re in the driver’s seat. You can share some things without sharing everything. You tell people that your person died without answering invasive follow-up questions. You can quickly pivot to another subject.

Your story of loss is yours to share–or not. Experiment with what feels good, and trust yourself to do what’s right for you.

As always, take gentle care of yourself.