From the John Cooley archive · Originally titled If Not Me, Who?
About this reading
Practical care begins when someone stops assuming that help is already on its way.
During my ten years as an agency funeral coordinator, and during the years I spent conducting seminars, I always practiced—or advocated—one simple principle: "If not me, who?" There are so many opportunities for a funeral coordinator to interact with surviving family members, agency members, and their families, and to do more than offer advice. It is far too easy to provide lip service when we should be providing service.
Here are some examples.
At my first few funerals, I met with family members and realized they could probably benefit from books or information on grieving, bereavement, and funeral planning. But I didn't know what to suggest, and I didn't ask anyone for help. I simply assumed someone else would handle it. I was busy.
Then, as I attended various training sessions on grief and bereavement, I was repeatedly told that as a service provider, I should be providing service—not lip service. Rather than thinking "it would be helpful if the family had some literature on this," I should have that literature and give it to them. If not me, who?
As I spoke with agency members and attended briefings and unit meetings, I began to realize they often had the same questions and concerns about the death of a friend and coworker. Again, I thought someone should get them some literature to help them understand and cope with their loss.
I discovered I could go to local mortuaries and ask for copies of the pamphlets they typically had on hand for visitors—on the death of a coworker, the death of a friend, and similar topics. At first the funeral directors told me I could find what I needed on the information table in the waiting room. I would reply that I needed a hundred copies. They always helped. Then I learned I could download pamphlets from the internet when I couldn't get them elsewhere. If not me, who?
As I met with officers' family members, I often recognized that they were in need of counseling—grief counseling, spiritual support, or psychological services. The easiest thing to do was to give them a name and phone number.
But I learned they would seldom make the call themselves. Someone needed to help them. So I began not only pointing them toward available resources but actually making the call, then handing them the phone—or making the appointment myself. If not me, who?
One night as I approached a crime scene, I was met by an officer at the tape barrier who recorded my name and let me enter. As I was giving my information, I asked how she was doing—it was a tough assignment. She mentioned the responsibilities she was managing and the uncooperative people she had been dealing with. Then she said that she had known the deceased officer well and was devastated by the death.
A couple of hours later I noticed she was still at the barrier, with little to do. An agency chaplain was standing with me, and I mentioned why it might be worthwhile for him to go over and talk with her. The chaplain told me the next day that the conversation, though brief, was very timely and meaningful. If not me, who?
As I worked with the chaplains of a local department, I learned that when they made a community death notification or were involved in the death of an agency member, they always provided a small book on grief. I read the book and found it very comforting. But it didn't offer a comprehensive explanation of grief and bereavement—or, most importantly, guidance on planning the funeral. Once again, I realized the family needed more, and I provided it. If not me, who?
Families and coworkers are sometimes confronted with deaths from uncommon or completely unexpected causes—suicide, substance abuse, AIDS, sudden infant death syndrome. These situations produce typical bereavement responses, but also additional reactions: disbelief, emotional conflict, and the need to find someone or something to blame.
Specific literature about these causes of death can inform, educate, and help people understand what has occurred—and reassure them that what they're feeling is normal. Who will provide that information? If not me, who?
Many times, late at night, I would be the last agency representative to leave a surviving family's home, thinking to myself that someone should stay to help the spouse—to protect her from the well-intentioned but overwhelming family members and friends who were telling her what she should do and how she should feel.
Then I would turn around and go back inside. Either I'd find someone I trusted to step into that role, or I'd do it myself. If not me, who?
As a funeral coordinator, I either experienced or learned about the difficulties people were facing when an officer or a member of their family died. I knew there would be opportunities to provide literature that would help them cope. I knew there would be people who needed more than a book—who needed support or counseling. I knew there was a lot I could do, if I chose to. I also knew there would be a lot of people offering lip service about what others should do for themselves.
But I knew something else: people in crisis are the least likely to recognize what they need, or to act on well-meaning suggestions. People in crisis need support.
If someone says they'd like a chaplain, call one. If they're struggling to grieve, arrange for them to meet with a grief counselor. If they don't know what to expect at the funeral home, give them a book that explains it—and go through it with them. The list goes on.
Because: "If not me, who?"
By John Cooley | Policefunerals.com