I try to check in on my social media platforms at least once a day. Sometimes it is to answer questions or to acknowledge comments with a “❤️”. But, often it’s to check in on my own support systems. I have found a wonderfully loving and supportive grief community on Twitter, believe it or not. Something about Twitter’s 280 character limit keeps things short and to the point…little soundbites…little nuggets of truth from people who have been there, done that and are still upright.

I try not to get caught up in chasing rabbits when I check in because I could get lost in a serious time suck if I did. Then, there are times when something I come across really needs fleshing out. It came in the form of a telephone interview with Matt Mauser whose wife Christina was killed Sunday in the helicopter crash. 

Christina was hand picked by Kobe to be the defense coach for Team Mamba, his own daughter’s basketball team. She was onboard and heading to a basketball game when the helicopter crashed killing all aboard. Matt and Christina have three children ages 11, 9, and 3. 

As Matt Mauser sat on the phone, waiting for the interviewer to do the lead-in, he was trying to maintain his composure, but as soon as he heard them speak his wife’s name, the tears threatened to spill over and you could hear his voice shake with emotion. As I listened, I thought to myself… “This can’t be good for him. This is going to be so, so hard.” It was. I couldn’t listen for long because after he fumbled around trying to put words together and express his feelings about raising three kids without a mom, the interviewer chimed in.

She tried to commiserate. “There are no words, really” she said. 

“Well, there are a lot of four-letter words I’d like to say right now, but I won’t.” He let out a nervous laugh.

The interviewer took a breath.

She was struggling to find her own words, when she blurted out that stupid, insensitive, AWFUL question every reporter asks someone who has just lost someone.

“So…how DO you feel? Do you feel angry?”

How are you supposed to answer that? And why on earth would you even ask that question? Unless you are not human and have no sense of compassion, don’t you think you could at least make the assumption that he feels_____________. Everything. Fill in the blank. Anger. Disbelief. Intense sadness. Devastation. Confusion. Fear. Pain. 

I hate it when they do this. I cannot see any sense in it whatsoever. It’s no different than going on the news and showing dead bodies covered in bloody sheets with shoeless feet sticking out from underneath. It can’t do anything but add to the trauma the loved ones are already experiencing. 

It was hard enough to go through the loss of Mr. Virgo without being in the spotlight. Yes…having this outlet, this blog was a saving grace many, many times. You were my sounding board, my support system, my cheerleaders, my mentors. But talking here about grief was one of the only places I could control the conversation. Grieving in the limelight adds a whole deeper dimension to the experience, I would think. Millions of eyes are upon you. And the interviewer asks the worst question…ever.

How do you feel?

I think I would go on a five minute rant…waving my arms, spit flying, and tell the interviewer just exactly what it felt like. Then again…maybe that’s what they want. The drama. I don’t know. I think in this case, when I listened to the interviewer leading up to the question…I think she genuinely WAS at a loss for words and fell back on the old standby question to fill dead air space. At least, I would like to think it was that and not that she was just morbidly curious and wanted the sound bite.

Here’s a suggestion. How about we leave the bereaved the heck alone and let them try to absorb this experience and cope as best they can instead of eviscerating them on live television? How about if we make the family off-limits…you know, out of respect. That’s a start. 

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“Ruthless witnesses come forward; they question me on things I know nothing about. They repay me evil for good and leave me like one bereaved.”

Psalms 35:11-12 NIV