I want to address personal boundaries using two recent interactions.
As the epilogue in my book lays out, some questions are inappropriate to ask of someone experiencing grief. One of those being, "how did they die?"
Every once in a while, someone will ask me how Nicholas died when they learn about his death, which occurred twice recently.
The first time was a direct question, "How did he die?" The second was sugarcoated; "Can I ask how he died?"
Both questions create a frighteningly awkward moment. Why does anyone need that information? Why ask if not to evaluate, categorize, and validate one's assumptions? And is the other person present with me at all with either question? Not a chance. They're merely curious for personal interest.
So, now, when asked, "How did he die?" I silently look at the questioner until they realize they are not getting a response from me, putting the awkwardness back on them.
On the other hand, when asked, "Can I ask how he died?" the griever may feel caught off guard and obliged to answer two questions instead of just one—an affirmation and private information. This question feels manipulative and invasive. Hence, over time I began answering this question with, "You can ask, but I don't have to answer." The affronted look on the other's face said it all—"What? I asked nicely. You don't have to be so rude."
It's all about what the questioner wants, don’t ya know.
So recently, someone asked me, "can I ask how he died?" Then, immediately and miraculously, they waved their hands in front of their downturned face while shaking their head and said something like, "Nevermind; it's none of my business. I'm sorry for asking."
Wow! I watched in silence and fascination as this person recognized their transgression and subsequent discomfort and then righted themselves and gently redirected the conversation. I felt awe and gratitude for their immediate insight and apology. They successfully repaired what might have been an unpleasant interaction. And no, I did not answer their question.
During my first visit with my grief therapist, she held up her hand when I began to tell her the story of Nicholas' death and said she didn't need specifics to support me. What a relief. With responsive boundaries, she was with me in the present moment and my current feelings rather than gathering facts about the past.
The same respect for boundaries applies to trauma. If there is no immediate danger or need for physical, emotional, mental, or legal protection, the specifics are irrelevant to the conversation and your relationship, whether coach, friend or family.
No matter how you cut it, asking for details is an invasion of privacy and a transgression of personal boundaries. If the griever wants you to know how their loved one died or the details of their trauma, they will tell you—but only if they feel affirmed and safe in your presence. Unquestioningly, probing for particulars will accomplish the opposite.
So, if an answer to your question would satisfy your curiosity while providing the person you're asking nothing (or worse), don't ask.
Pause and Reflect:
Before asking an intrusive question, learn to ask yourself, "How does this question benefit the person I'm asking?"
In my book, Witnessing Grief: Inviting Trauma and Loss to Our Coaching Conversations, an Enneagram Perspective, you can read more about what not to say and why. Witnessing Grief is available on Amazon.