There are certain things that are learned in the early days of grief that become lessons for us throughout the rest of our lives. Always carry tissues. Life isn't fair. Platitudes do not help ease pain. Deep breaths work wonders.

One simple truth for me over the years has been -- let the answering machine do its job. In other words, don't feel compelled to answer the phone each time it rings. Think about it. The answering machine can take messages.

Most people think the sole purpose of the answering machine is to take the calls we miss because we aren't at home when the friend, relative, telemarketer, neighbor, charity representative, or bill collector calls. We come home and check our messages to see which calls we've missed.

When my son Daniel died, I got phone calls from well-meaning folks and, after a while, I really didn't want to talk to them. Sure, I recall sharing from my heart with a few friends on the phone, but basically, I didn't want to talk to just anyone. Months later, my daughter Elizabeth was born. With two kids in diapers and a six-year-old, plus a weary and broken heart, I just didn't always feel up to talking on the phone.

The message I recorded on my answering machine was that we were glad for the call, but probably taking naps or changing diapers. "We'll get back to you."

And most of the time, I was too involved with those tasks of small children to come to the phone.

Since then I learned the ringing phone does not have to dominate my household. Not after everyone is finally seated at the dining room table for a meal I've cooked, not as we are headed out the door to church, already late, not when I'm in the process of writing an article, and not when my husband and I are in the middle of watching a video together after the children have finally gone to bed.

I let the answering machine take the calls and when Robin, a new friend of mine, wonders why her bereaved friend and neighbor doesn't answer her phone, I have the answer.

I tell Robin that when the phone rings, her friend who just lost an infant isn't necessarily checking to see who is calling, that is, if she has Caller ID. She may be in the middle of tears, feeling sad, or just not in the mood to talk at all. It may be a way of having some control over her newly ruptured life. She has realized how little she is in control; she couldn't prevent the death of her precious child. Now when the phone rings, she can have a choice to answer or not to answer. She has gained a little control of her life in this way. Do not take it personally. She still needs you as a friend.

Under the Expanded Sky

Educating Merna

Crying With My Ancestors

Opening Grief as a Gift

Living Life from the Graveyard

Surviving the Tinsel

Trees of the Ice Storm

Is There Laughter After Death?

Whatever Happened to the Old?

Out of My Comfort Zone

I Am Not Cheese

As The Sixth Year Approaches

The Dirty Green Van

Judging Pain?

Closets, Revisited

Unwinding with a Pen

There is Nothing Wrong with You!

Scared to Death of Dying and Denying Grief

The Night the Christmas Tree Fell

Baking Bereavement Bread

For the Love of Mothers

Bereaved Eyes

A Wealthy Life

The Power of Photographs

Fragrance of Marigolds

A reader of my monthly ezine Tributes, Loretta, reads my comments about the phone and answering machine and emails to say she agrees with me. Before her daughter died, she used to spend huge amounts of time on the phone and answered each call when she was at home as long as she wasn't in the shower. Now sometimes people leave a message like the following on her answering machine, "Are you screening your calls?" Others will say, "If you are there, would you pick up!" Who are these people, wonders Loretta, who demand that I act like I used to and talk with them? When Loretta has been out of the house and comes home to hear messages of annoyance from callers, she feels rebellious.

I used to be so phone-oriented that my oldest drew a picture of me with a phone glued to my ear. Not anymore. I prefer friends to email me. Occasionally I will carve out time to talk on the phone and actually enjoy it. But I can't let phone conversations take over my day.

So whatever your reasoning, remember that a ringing phone does not have to be answered. Let the answering machine do its job. This is a bit of advice learned because of grief and yet good and solid for the rest of your life.