The Wisdom of Death: Press/Articles

Slab Leak
(June 11, 2001
By Paul R. Villanueva
Taken from “The Wisdom of Death”
www.BooksofWisdom.com

(Written three weeks after the death of my father)

“Hey dad, you know how to fix a slab leak?”

“A what?”

“A slab leak. It’s when the copper pipe laid within your house slab gets a hole in it, and water seeps up through the floor.”

“That sounds bad.”

“It is bad dad.”

“You better call a plumber, get a pro out there.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I better call someone.”

“I wish I could help you son.”

“Yeah, I wish you could help me too.”

My dad was not a plumber. He had worked for a pipe company many years ago and had some knowledge of pipes and plumbing. Nevertheless, to me, he was an expert. For some reason, I thought he knew everything about plumbing problems, so I would call him with all of mine when seeking advice. Even if he did not know the answer, I needed to bounce the problem off him. I felt better when I did, much better.

It was just comforting to talk to another man about little fix-its around the house. He helped me out often with icemakers, copper tubing, garbage disposals, and faucets. I learned a lot.

Once, my wife lost her ring down the kitchen sink. I immediately took off the piping near the elbow joint, and found the ring there. My dad showed me. They designed the elbow pipe to be a trap for stuff like that. He was no plumber, but he knew things, helpful things. A boy just has to ask his dad questions. That’s how he learns to be a man.

My dad would stand over me as I lay flat on my back under the kitchen sink, attempting to stop the leak I created when I changed out the disposer. “Try putting some more pipe dope on it son.” “Now, use the crescent wrench, not too tight, that’s it.”

Together we would always get it fixed. He was always there for me. He thrived on helping me out. It was such a comfort. A boy really needs a dad. He never stops needing him.

It has been three weeks, and I dream about you every night, yes every night. I miss you so much. I need your help, dad. I have a leak.

“You know how to fix a soul leak, dad?

What’s a soul leak? It’s when the pain of loss is so great that it travels past the mind and the heart and it gnaws away at the very soul until I sigh so deeply that bits of me vanish.

It sounds bad, huh dad. It’s bad, really bad. Who do I
call? How do I fix it, dad?

I wish you could help me. Wish you were here.”

SIX PATHS AT A GLANCE

The Wisdom of Death: Six Paths to Understanding Loss and Grief by Paul R. Villanueva
www.BooksofWisdom.com


Path One: A time to die

·Know that there is an appointed time to die, and realize the difficulty in dying naturally in today’s modern world of science and medicine.

·Recognize the signals of death.


Path Two: Death in nature

·Know that there are natural cycles of birth, life, and death in nature.

·Recognize natural empathy while giving it and receiving it.

·Acknowledge the fact each person mourns differently and individually, and allow yourself to express your grief to others.


Path Three: Angel of life

·Believe that there is an afterlife, both spiritually and earthly.

·Recognize the legacy your loved one left as the earthly afterlife, and realize that you leave your own legacy and gifts to the world.


Path Four: Upstaging the crucifixion

·Acknowledge anger.
·Understand fairness and justice are abstract concepts not inherent in nature.

·Allow your loss, grief, and anger to lead you into greatness.


Path Five: Important matters

·Know that family and friends are most important in your life.

·Know that difficulties can create permanent bonds between people.


Path Six: The afterbirth

·Know that your life will go on. However, it goes on differently.

·Learn how to mourn and grieve within your own set limitations.

·Understand that keeping your loved one's memory alive keeps them real to you.

·Know that your life has been permanently changed through death.

The A.I.M. Approach

The following was adapted from The Wisdom of Death: Six Paths to Understanding Loss and Grief by Paul Villanueva (www.booksofwisdom.com).

One of the most comforting emails I received came from a co-worker named Vince who wrote, AI am sorry to hear about the loss of your father. I lost both of my parents to cancer, and I imagine your pain is great. I am here for you if you want to go get a coke or something.”

Wow! This was so beautiful because he wrote with empathy. The line I really appreciated was, AI imagine your pain is great.” Because he had lost his parents to cancer, he could empathize with my loss and pain.

When he stated he could imagine my pain was great, I knew he could imagine with great clarity. This man had also recently lost his brother to death. He was no stranger to the grieving process. Using this excellent example of natural empathy, I began to search for the reason why this particular statement meant so much to me. Here is how I broke it down.

1. “I am sorry to hear about the loss of your father.”

· First of all, Vince states he is sad and disappointed over the death of my father. It is a simple statement, bears no trivial content, and makes no effort to make me feel better or increase my understanding.

2. “I lost both of my parents to cancer.”

· He really relates to my situation, and even makes me think about how fortunate I am to still have my mother alive.

· He is open with his loss and does not attempt to disguise his own pain. He simply writes he has been the victim of cancer also.

3. “I imagine your pain is great.”

· This simple statement is the best I have heard or read. Vince is not attempting to show me a silver lining or attempting to help me get over my loss. He simply and eloquently writes, “I imagine.”

· Imagining someone’s pain is different than knowing someone’s pain. He could have wrote, “I know what you are going through.” I would have to concede he probably did know what I was going through as he had previously lost two parents. However, who can really brag about knowing what another is experiencing. Because death is unique to all of us, no other can really know exactly what another is feeling.

· Yet, Vince informs me he can imagine that I am hurting. I could be hurting from many things. Maybe, I was not close to my father, maybe I hated him. Maybe my pain resulted from guilt and unfinished business. Someone “imagining” my pain leaves the empathy wide open for individual interpretation. This is why this phrase is so beautiful.

4. “I am here for you if you want to get a coke or something.”

· He informs me he is available. Once again, he is not attempting to fix anything. He is available for conversation, for listening, and for providing comfort and support.

I find this an excellent framework for responding to another’s grief using empathy in a natural manner. Remember, a person does not need to have actually experienced what another has experienced to empathize. They only need to respond to another’s experience as if they had gone through the same experience themselves.

So, using this framework when responding to another grieving person, it can be summed up in three steps that I have coined the AIM approach. AIM is a mnemonic device that I created to help me remember the natural empathy framework needed for responding to an individual who may be grieving.

1. Acknowledge that you feel sad and sorry for their loss. (You are sorry).

2. Imagine their pain. (Empathize), and cross the bridge of relatedness if possible.

3. Make yourself available (Give of your time and of yourself).

Keeping the AIM approach in mind when responding to a grieving person will prevent one from saying words that are meaningless and possibly harmful. Anytime an opportunity arises to comfort the bereaved, great care and sensitivity must be taken to respond to them in an honest and natural manner.