"At least..."
“At least…”
As a grief counselor, educator and Pastor, every time I hear someone start a sentence with “at least,” I have to cringe. I thought I had heard every “at least” there was. “At least you knew he was ill,” “At least he didn’t suffer.” “At least you have other children.” I often tell my clients that all of those “At leasts” are offered in the way of comfort, most often to the person who is offering them. “At least” says that, despite the awfulness, there must be something redeemable about the experience, something that makes the unimaginable somehow more bearable. “At least it was fast” or “at least he didn’t see the train coming” offer comfort that the speaker imagines that it could have been worse. After over twenty years in the field of Grief & Loss, I thought I could no longer be startled by the amazing variety of “At leasts.”
However, this time of craziness we live in, has offered brand new things. Officiating at a service recently of a man who had died after his second bout of Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, I heard someone comfort his wife with, “At least it wasn’t COVID.” I saw the startled look on her face and watched to see how she was going to handle it. A Registered Nurse who worked in hospice and has been a professional caregiver most of her life, she, after taking a moment to catch her breath, responded, “Oh, you mean because we were together and he didn’t have to die alone?” “No,” said the man, “At least it wasn’t COVID and he didn’t just become a statistic.” Again, I watched and listened. I wondered how this grieving, very well educated in loss wife would answer. Her response: “No one who dies is a statistic, each one is a person.”
“At least…” “At least you got to have a service” speaks perhaps of knowledge of deaths not publicly mourned. “At least it was sudden” might come from one who has walked the journey of a protracted illness or the never-ending loss that comes from chronic illness, traumatic brain injury or the many forms of dementia. “At least you have other children” can come from one who has seen the devastation of the loss of an only child. Each “At least” comes from someone’s well of life experience – with or without sorrow. Those words, intended to comfort, can also cause pain. I tell my clients to assume that the speaker means no ill will, but wants to somehow lessen your burden.
In the end, whether those words bring comfort or unintended pain, I offer my own at least, “At least they were willing to speak to your sorrow.” Too many times, the bereaved are treated as if they might be contagious, as if that loss might cause another to experience equal sorrow. I acknowledge the ones who words do not help, rarely intend to harm, but to make things somehow easier with this, “At least they tried.”
About the Author
Rev. Janet Buntrock, MA, LPC, FT has been a Pastor, Counselor, Educator and currently works on government contract and maintains a counseling practice, primarily Grief & Loss focused in Littleton, Colorado.
