When It Rains, It Pours

Something has been working on my mind for a while now.

I guess it’s been since Memorial Day, when we had our show on platitudes during the time of bereavement. We talked about what to say, what not to say, what not to do or do with Deborah Tainish and Mary Ellen Gizzie. It was a particularly difficult show as Tara was the first to admit. I know a few women who tuned out because it brought their fears closer than they needed.

I completely understand, but we’ve got to talk.

Now.

The time to talk about how we’re going to handle being the supported and the supporter—if it happens—is now, not when it happens. If it’s not talked about now, you end up with the mob mentality like what happened at Denise’s in an episode of Army Wives. Everyone, meaning well for sure, showed up to her house when it was announced her husband was aboard a downed helicopter. They brought food and congregated with the best of intentions.

But, let me show you something, and I have to warn you that my husband tells me that I’m horrible with analogies, about poorly executed well-meant manners.

Picture a storm that’s raining buckets. You’re in a car. I’m picturing that you’re in a cab as the rider. Your stop is ahead, and you certainly don’t want to brave the elements. Never fear, you don’t have to. You’re being expected, so maybe someone is waiting to assist you and has an umbrella. In effect, you expect your friends are prepared. They think they are, too. At least two are there waiting with umbrellas vying for your side as you emerge from the cab. You are thankful, but as you move forward, you realize you’re getting rain right in your face. The umbrellas are funneling the hard rain where they meet, right down the middle, right over your head.

And you get drenched.

Hopefully you can see there are two principles at work here.

1. You are very frustrated because the expectation that you’d be helped out was not met.

2. Too many well-meaning people actually made the situation worse. There was one too many umbrella holders.

That is my illustration of how things can go wrong if the concept of bereavement care is left out of FRG discussions and action planning. If done wrong, you end up with hurt feelings, irreparable damage to the surviving spouse whose expectations are not met, a mob, and too much food.

I’m usually the one who says “resource this” and “resource that.” But today, I’m going to close by saying, I broach this subject because I care about you.

I think it’s not brought up enough, maybe I’m wrong, but especially in deploying and deployed unit FRGs. Everyone should have a role, a purpose, and everyone should have a venue at least once to voice their expectations.

Mine was to be able to reach one of three friends at all times. We would take turns being “on,” and I remember several times calling somewhere just to tell my friend the route of my bike ride or walk and calling upon my return.

What are your expectations? Are you satisfied they’ll be met when it rains? What can this body of online milspouse friends do for you, and how can we help you?