Klára Brázdová and Oleg: Is mourning chaos? Or is it wandering through the forest? And is a funeral a dialogue?
Klára Brázdová and Oleg Vojtíšek record a podcast on a grassy roof above Prague
The deafening silence after the death of a man.
And now we don't mean when you're suddenly home alone. But the silence that comes at the end of the day: when you receive lots of messages, lots of attention, questions and love after the death of a loved one... and then suddenly... it fades away.
Suddenly, the neighborhood decided it was time to move on. But you're not there yet.
As a psychotherapist, Klára Brázdová often works with the bereaved and our work and hers have a lot in common!
As a funeral service, we often consider how much we have to do for our clients: from a service position, we want to deliver the maximum. It's just that grieving is a very specific thing. People need to be guided to go into the grieving process themselves - even by preparing the funeral. And it's similar in therapy.
Klara says she likes that we are having a dialogue with the bereaved. A dialogue about what they want and how they want it. What's even possible. A dialogue about what the deceased would have wanted, what they want. That's what people are often afraid to talk to them about. Grieving people are fully competent and should not be treated like children.
Why is it not good to follow the "expert" stages of grief?
How are mourning and wandering through the forest similar?
And why is it nice to go to Nepal after the funeral?
In our podcast, Oleg talked about grieving with psychotherapist Klara Brázdová and if you're concerned, you'll definitely want to listen in!
Barbora Steinlauf: Are you entitled to a peaceful death?
"I don't want to live anymore, let me die..." Has a dying man ever said that to you? Is he entitled to die peacefully? Can you answer that?
Barbora Steinlauf and Oleg Vojtíšek recording a podcast in the dusk over Prague
Probably not. And many doctors probably don't either.
The legal system of the health care system in the area of dying is very much lagging behind: it has long been built to protect doctors and support them when they commit illegal acts. But Barbara Steinlauf, as a health care advocate, is going in the opposite direction - protecting the rights of the dying and trying to spread awareness about what people are entitled to during the dying process.
If you can't answer these questions, you should definitely listen to the podcast recorded by our Oleg with Barbara Steinlauf:
What should I do if someone is dying in hospital and I feel they are not being treated well? And what if I suspect they died because of a hospital error?
Is a signed paper really enough as informed consent?
If you refuse medical care, do you also lose palliative care?
And in general... how is euthanasia (killing on request) in the context of Czech law?
And that's not the end of it: Barbora has also launched a new project about the end of life. Let your family know how you want to die when you can no longer make your own decisions. Or see how to have a conversation with a dying person about it.
What to say and not to say to parents after the death of a child
Do you have anyone in your area who has had a baby or even a bigger child die? Would you like to comfort them in some way, but don't know how? Prepare yourself for the fact that you simply cannot comfort a parent whose son or daughter has died, it is not in human power. On the other hand, words can be powerful and can caress the grieving parent's soul or hurt them painfully.
Adriana Kábová on the banks of the Vltava River, on Střelecký Island
When my own baby died, I was surprised in many ways by the reactions of those around me. Some pleasant, some unpleasant. What struck me most was how many people retreated and pretended nothing had happened. I realized they probably didn't know how to react. But the avoidance of me, or at least the topic of the baby's death, was probably the most distressing.
Parents often find themselves in a strange limbo after the death of a child and feel lonely. And this is only because their surroundings do not know what to say, do not know what to do, so they prefer to withdraw and avoid responding to such a difficult life situation. Fears of being reminded of the deceased child are not misplaced; parents find it hard to manage to think of anything else at all for the first few months.
In addition to ignorance, a common type of reaction is a pleading effort to come up with something positive, something to please the parents with empty arms. But it just can't work. Parents may perceive the effort to comfort, but it is absolutely ineffective.
Sometimes I was amazed at what people said to me. I understand that they probably felt the need to comfort or comfort me in some way. But more than once, I ended up actually feeling sorry for them. They're just floundering and they don't know what to do with me.
Rather, I recommend focusing on sentences that acknowledge the death of the child and the weight of the parents' grief. A simple "I'm sorry", "I'msorry" is sometimes quite enough. "Condolences" is seen by some as a stilted phrase, but it actually has deep meaning and is certainly one of the most welcome expressions of belonging.
Words that can support grieving parents:
I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry.
My condolences.
If you know each other very well, even a hug can be supportive for parents after the death of a child. It's a good idea to ask first if you can, if the parents will be comfortable at the time. Respectfully and without offence, if they refuse your offer, not everyone is the 'hugging type'.
I am here for you and I will listen to you whenever you need me.
Don't be afraid to text me anytime, you'll never bother me.
It is very necessary to be able to listen to parents after the death of their child, because it often helps them to share their burden, but few people want to hear about dying. Take away from your stories what happened to your friends and what helped them afterwards. Rather, be interested in the story or insight that the grieving person may want to tell you, but there is often no space for it. Let the parents know that you are ready to hear them out. You might say things like "I'm here for you and will listen whenever you need me" or"don't be afraid to text me anytime, you'll never bother me".
Do you want to tell me about (child's name)?
And when you are finding out if the parents are willing and in the mood to share their grief with you, it is a good idea not to be afraid to mention the name of the deceased child. Indeed, many people tend to stop saying the child's name as if it were suddenly forbidden. It's just that for parents, it's still their beloved son or daughter, even if they're suddenly not there. And when suddenly no one wants to talk about them, no one even wants to say their name, it's as if those around them suddenly don't want to acknowledge that they existed at all.
I was always pleased when there was someone among my friends who was not afraid to say my son's name. It warmed my heart that at least someone remembered him after his short stay here.
Words that usually rub salt in the wound:
Be glad you have another child.
You are still young, you will have more.
You just have to think positive.
Worse things happen to people.
I know how you feel because...
Nature intended it that way. It was meant to be.
Your child is in a better place now.
It's a good thing it wasn't older.
And you're thinking about another one?
Sentences beginning with "at least that".
In addition to the group of people who are worried about hurting their parents with their words and prefer to remain silent, there is also the part that doesn't think about their words at all and simply says something in the belief that it will alleviate their parents' grief. If the parents have any other children, there is always someone who will remember to mention it. "Be glad you have another child." Yes, parents are certainly glad they have another child, but that doesn't lessen their grief. In fact, all sentences that begin with "at least that..."are similarly ineffective . At least you're okay, at least it didn't get worse, at least everything is going well otherwise, at least you can still have more children , and so on.
And then there are those who feel they know exactly what parents experience after the death of a child. Because someone they know has been through something similar and they know what helped them and what parents now have to do and not do that they need to do. Never say the sentence "I know how you feel because..." because you simply don't know. Each grieving process is deeply individual and no one can give parents an exact guide on how to get through it.
"When our Oliver died, I was unable to talk to anyone except my husband. After coming home from the hospital, we stayed at his parents' house for a few days. Everyone acted as if nothing had happened. On the third day, my mother-in-law sat down with me in the living room and said she knew exactly what I was going through. She said she had a miscarriage once. She started giving me advice on what I should and shouldn't do now. I just stayed staring at her. And she said she had absolutely no idea what I was going through. I left in tears and we didn't speak again until we left."
The experience of our client Eva B.
Well-meaning judgments like "nature intended it that way", "itwas meant to be" or
"your child is in a better place now". If these statements are meant seriously, then they contain a reference to spirituality, which the parent may not share with the speaker.
And because in our society, in general, grief vented in public is not very popular, the parents' surroundings sometimes do not know how to deal with it. And that's how catchphrases like "don't cry, it won't bring him/her back anyway","you have to think positive" arise. Similarly, the phrase "worse things happen to people" is not at all supportive. The pressure to smile and the encouragement to suppress grief negate the parents' experienced emotions and their need to grieve.
A phrase that can hurt parents of babies who died in the womb or were born very prematurely is "before they were older". Beware, direct proportionality does not apply here. The parent simply lost the baby. Period.
For babies, forgive the often heard phrase "you are still young, you will have another". Parents experience an indescribable pain, they grieve for the unique baby they have just lost. That phrase is like a slap in the face. In addition, you may not know the exact reasons for the baby's death, and sometimes there may be interventions after which another pregnancy is not even possible. And unless you've stood by your parents throughout their grieving process, you're not one of their closest loved ones, so avoid asking them questions like, "Are you thinking about another one yet?"
So we recommend that the death of a child is definitely not ignored, not passed unnoticed. It's just that in such a case, less is sometimes more, and "I'm sorry" and "I'm sorry" as a first reaction is quite enough. And then you can ask parents what practical things you can help them with, or even suggest some. It is most appreciated when you are able to listen to your parents and whatever they want to share, even repeatedly.
The author Adriana Kábová is a bereavement counsellor and funeral guide whose first baby died.
How nature helps us in times of loss
When we lose a loved one, the world as we have known it suddenly changes. Time seems to stand still. What was solid crumbles. What used to make sense suddenly makes no sense. The pain may seem greater than we can bear. An empty space is created. A silence that cannot be bypassed.
It is in such moments that nature can become our support and refuge. It offers what we need in times of grief - silence, peace, healing sound, sight and touch. A place to rest. Closeness without words, without advice, without pressure. It helps us gently stay connected - to ourselves, to what has been, and to what remains.
We, the Funeral Guides, have now begun to establish forest cemeteries. That's why we are focusing on the connection between nature and mourning much more in our articles.
Nature receives and heals
In moments of grief, nature can be the most patient guide. The forest, the mountains, the river and the open sky do not impose advice or quick fixes. They don't promise "it will be okay again" or give instant "how to be okay fast" instructions. They don't judge, they don't rush, they don't press for time - they just quietly are present. They accept our sadness as naturally as morning fog or fallen leaves. And in doing so, they give us space to just be. To meet our grief, to be present with it for a while, to pay attention to it.
It can be hard to stay in the present during the grieving period. The present itself often hurts - we tend to reminisce, dwell on the past, regret, withdraw, numb or avoid what we are feeling. It is then, however, that nature offers us one of her gifts. It helps us to gently stay in the here and now - with what we feel and with what surrounds us. It becomes a refuge for even the most difficult emotions.
Calm, rhythm and the quiet power of nature slowly bring us back to ourselves, our bodies and our experience. In the immensity of the sky we can find solace and feel that it can carry our sorrow. When we lean against a tree, we sense a quiet strength that supports us. In the solidity of the stone we find stability amidst the emotional maelstrom. A leaf carried by a stream of water can symbolically carry away a bit of our pain. And just as the earth receives rain, it receives our tears.
Nature seems to naturally tune in to our pain without making light of it or considering it too great. We can turn to her as a silent witness to our grief. And even when nothing seems to change outwardly, her presence usually fills us with greater ease and peace. Perhaps it is in this quiet repose that a gentle wave of reconciliation begins to slowly awaken within us - as if we suddenly see everything with more perspective and open ourselves to accepting what is.
Even the body feels the loss
Grief doesn't just dwell in the heart - it also leaves its mark on the body. People often describe chest pain, shortness of breath, insomnia, upset stomach, anxiety, anger, or an outbreak of autoimmune disease at the time of loss. The nervous system, overwhelmed by intense emotional pain, goes into a state of constant alert - the body seems unable to find peace, security or rest. And when the body is in tension, it is difficult not only to function, but to process grief.
And it is in such situations that nature can help us greatly. Scientific studies confirm that being in nature harmonises the nervous system: it calms the breath, lowers blood pressure and stress hormones, strengthens immunity and emotional resilience. It helps improve mood and relieves anxiety - symptoms that often accompany grief. From Japanese tradition comes the term shinrin-yoku, literally 'bath in the forest'. It is a forest 'therapy' that originated in the 1980s as a response to the increasing stress of modern life. It's not about exercise or tourism - it's an invitation to slow down and be with all your senses in the presence of the trees, light, scents and sounds of the forest.
Nature has a silent effect on our physiology: just walk through the forest and feel the softness of the moss. Smell the needles. Stop by a tree and let the streaks of light that pass through the crown fall on your face. To notice the tiny insects making their way through the leaves. Feel the roughness of the bark with the palm of your hand and listen to the silence in which our breathing slowly calms.
In this silence a deeper perception begins to awaken in us - we are not just thinking beings found in nature; we are nature. Our bodies, like the trees, the wind and the soil, are intimately connected to the natural world. And it is in this connection that our senses open, our receptivity to ourselves and our surroundings grows, our mood slowly transforms, and our bodies can breathe more freely again.
Conscious memory anchored in nature
Nature can also support us in anchoring a conscious memory of a loved one who has passed away. When someone dies, it's not just their body that disappears. His or her place in our lives is transformed. He is no longer on the other end of the phone, at the table, visiting... and yet he remains. In the memories, the gestures, the words, in what we take from him - in our hearts. It is this inner presence that can be healing if we give it space.
Giving space to memory means accepting that the relationship does not end with death, but changes its form. In the silence of nature, we can ask the question: What do I want to keep of the life we lived together? What do I want to carry forward as a memory, a gift, a thank you?
Nature offers subtle, concrete stimuli for this. A feather to stick in the moss. A word whispered into the hollow of a tree. A leaf we let drift down a stream like a silent message. A stone that captures our attention with its shape and into which we imprint the love we continue to carry in our hearts. A conscious memory can thus take shape, voice and expression.
Ancestral legacy in the rhythms of nature
Our ancestors lived in close connection with nature and its cycles. Death was not a taboo for them, but a natural part of life. People said goodbye around the fire, with singing, in the circle of family and community. The body of the deceased was placed in the ground - in the forest, on a sacred hill, under a stone - in a place that was part of their lives. Mourning had a time, a place and rituals that helped to bring the deceased back to life.
Today, we can consciously return to and build on this wisdom. Be inspired to embrace life in all its forms. To seek kind and natural ways of saying goodbye. And to lean into the rhythms of nature that were here long before us and will remain after us - the sunrises, the changing seasons, the cycle of birth and passing. A rhythm that knows death as part of life. A rhythm in which nature offers a quiet support and a space where we are allowed to grieve at our own pace - unhurriedly, with respect for what has been, and with the hope that life will slowly find a new balance.
In moments of loss, nature offers us a quiet but strong support. It can carry everything that hurts us - tears, silence and memories. We find in it the support to honour the memory of our loved ones, to stop, listen and rest. It can also help us to reflect on our mortality and find comfort in knowing that even as we navigate the difficult terrain of grief, we are not alone in it. In this way, we continue the approach of our ancestors - in respect and humility for life, in coming to terms with death, and in finding support in the rhythms of nature.
In the stillness of nature and in the repetitive changes of its cycles, we find inspiration for how to move through grief, how to allow ourselves to experience pain and at the same time be led to reconciliation - to come to terms with our loss. She kindly leads us back - to ourselves, to life, to a new beginning. In its quiet rhythm, a subtle movement toward balance, renewed resilience and wholeness can be subtly born. And therein lies its profound wisdom and comfort.