Pleasantries

When I moved to Copenhagen after graduation to be with my husband, I took a position at the study abroad institute I attended during my junior year. Part of my role was to conduct a session during orientation week about living and studying in Denmark. One of the cultural differences we discussed was the art of small talk. Unlike Americans, Danes do not typically engage in small talk. They often find Americans to be disingenuous based on these "fake" conversations. They do not want to be asked how they are by a person who obviously doesn't care about the response. Being from the south, the presumption that a quick conversation of "Hi, how are you?" "Fine, thanks, and you?" "Fine" was anything other than friendly and polite was strange, but at the time it just made for a funny cultural observation. I used to tell students that if they ask their new Danish friend "How are you?" they might hear a detailed description of his or her day up until that point including what was for breakfast and the state of traffic on the morning commute!

When Patricia died, I wanted to move back to Denmark to escape the small talk. I began to hate and dread the daily pleasantries I was expected to engage in with coworkers at the office, fellow students in my graduate program, and even strangers at the grocery store. Answering the question "How are you?" was a frequent topic of conversation among myself and other loss moms in the online support communities I am a part of. How is this question to be answered when your child is dead? Honestly? The majority of people posing this question were engaging in small talk and likely did not care to hear about the hell we were living. Even people who knew about Patricia asked this question in passing, likely without any thought. Suddenly what used to be a funny cultural difference became another source of pain and further isolation. Part of me felt, like many other loss moms, a duty to bring awareness and make the path easier for others who would unfortunately follow. So, I usually answered with something like "Things are tough right now." However, I found that this response often got me awkward stares and uncomfortable shifting until I followed it up with something upbeat like "but we're hanging in there." The relief was immediate and often evident on the face of the person who expected to hear "Fine, thanks, and you?"

You might wonder why I would make such a big deal out of this. After all, people are just being polite. But for a person who is grieving, saying that we are fine can feel like we are denying our pain, pain that comes from the love of the one we lost. Why should our society expect persons who are grieving to add to their pain for the sake of pleasantries? The answer is that we shouldn't. We should foster sensitivity, empathy, and understanding. In general, I think we should reevaluate our use of small talk. I am not advocating walking through life with our eyes on the ground, but I do wish people would discontinue the use of "How are you" unless they truly care and have the time to listen and respond. If not, a simple "Good morning/afternoon/night" or "Nice to see you" will do just fine.