This is one of the most powerful bereavement stories that I have ever heard. It is about a young woman nearing the end of her life at Hospice. She is both a wife and the mother of three small children.

This is the kind of tragic situation that no human being ever wishes to contemplate. Yet, in spite of dire personal circumstances, this woman is able to command both the wisdom and the self-possession to enable her husband to carry out his life-long trust as father of their young family, in full knowledge that she can be of future assistance in spirit only. The husband conveys the voice of his wife's courage and the incredible legacy which she has dedicated to her family.

One day, my wife asked me to close the door and pay attention to what she had to say. She told me that she had but a short time to live and was concerned about the future of our children and, of course, me. She reminded me that we had three small children, and regardless of how good a father I was, I was going to need help in raising those little ones. My dear wife then gave me a list of names with the following explanation, “If I leave it to you, you will just try and make the best of things, and that is a big worry for me. You, alone, will not be able to replace me in the care of our children, and I am sure if you think about it, you will agree. So, I have made a list of women that I think would be a great help to you and our children. Some of them are our
friends, and some you do not know. My choice for a new wife for you and a mother for our children is the top name on my list. After a suitable time, I want you to seriously consider a relationship with one of these women.”

To say that I was speechless is putting it mildly. I spent an almost sleepless night before it dawned on me that my wife was doing the only thing that she could do for our family. The next day we talked a good deal about our responsibilities to each other and our children. I agreed that however painful our situation was, we had to face the reality of the near future.

Some time after my wife died, I took out the list and remembered what she had asked me to do. Some of the women on the list were friends, and I enjoyed their company. However, as it turned out, the top name was the right one, and we are going to be married in the near future.

Can you imagine the courage and wisdom of this young mother? She gave her husband both the permission and the means to assist him after her death, and, of course, she did so with love.

This story is such a poignant reminder of the strength of the human spirit. Not everyone has the insight and courage to do what this young wife and mother did for her husband and her children.

She left an unparalleled legacy. In her absence, her loving concern and passion for the future well-being of her family will sustain them forever.

Her wisdom in the face of dire circumstances may serve as the best example yet of the power of shared knowledge to assist the bereaved to help the bereaved. How did she know what to do? How did she accept the fact that her travel route was destined for only one portion of the journey's distance? How did she envisage the future for her family, and how did she summon the strength to problem-solve around both real and perceived barriers to her family's survival once she was gone?

If shared knowledge is truly, as Ralston Saul suggests, a consideration of the whole, and if shared knowledge is essentially inclusive and human, then this young woman's gift to her family demonstrates both the power and the transcendence of such wisdom.

When we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us,
we often find that it is those who,
instead of giving much advice, solutions or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and
touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand.

The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion.
who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing
not curing not healing
and face with us the reality of our powerlessness
That is the friend who cares.

Henri Nouwen

Growing through Grief, 1989 Rainbow Connection!