Since losing my dad, I’ve had several friends ask me what was helpful when I was deep in grief. What words connected? What did people do that made an impact? Well, in the past week, I’ve had three friends struggling with grief and I’ve realized that I really don’t have the answers. I wasn’t sure what to say. What to do. How to help. Grief is hard to navigate. But people who are feeling great loss, also want to feel great support.
So, after talking to one of these women, I felt compelled to write this post that’s been on my mind for a long time. You see, our neighbors (who I don’t know all too well, yet) are coping with the loss of their best friends’ sweet daughter, who was killed in her classroom last month. I had sent her a message of support through our neighborhood website when I learned of their connection to Newtown. We exchanged a couple simple notes, and I wrote again as school started back after winter break letting her know I was thinking of her.
When she saw me at the bus stop the following day, my neighbor embraced me. It was more than a hug. It was the most sincere expression of gratitude, grief, fear, and strength I had experienced in a long time. We both teared up, knowing that there were no words. It was just too much.
As the bus drove away, we began to talk. She shared a bit about her time in Connecticut. And her return to work, almost a month later. She’d spent so much time wrapped up in a community of support, that returning to work was a surprisingly cold reality. A few people expressed condolences in passing. Some said nothing, because they didn’t seem to know what to say. Others acted as though nothing had happened and dove into holiday chit-chat. The lack of warmth made a real impact on her—and not a good one.
I’m guessing—hoping—these people didn’t mean to be hurtful. They just didn’t know any better. So I figured I’d share a few things that have made a difference to me, in hopes that others can find value in this as they support friends who are grieving. I’d love for people to share their personal experiences in the comments as well, because I have no doubt every person experiences grief differently.
It’s Better to Say Something Than Nothing
Don’t be afraid and shy away from someone dealing with grief. And don’t worry so much about saying the wrong thing that you say nothing. Goodness knows I’ve done this more times than I can count through the years. Now I know that it’s actually better to say a simple something, even if it’s just, “I don’t even know what to say other than I’ve been thinking of you.” (My friend left me a message with almost these exact words on the anniversary of my dad’s death and it’s stuck with me as one of the most sincere, kind expressions I received.) If you’re uncomfortable addressing the loss in person, send a sympathy card with a quick sentiment. A simple acknowledgment of someone’s sadness goes a long way. (Along these lines, I personally have a whole new view of funerals. The people who might have thought it was strange to attend because we hadn’t spoken in so long, they had to travel so far, they’d never actually met my dad, etc. were the people that made the biggest impact on me.)
Share a Memory
If you happen to know the person who has passed away, sharing a personal memory is extremely meaningful. From an elementary school friend I haven’t seen in 20 years sending me a Facebook message with a story her mom told her about my dad standing up to a teacher at Back to School Night, to my dad’s best friends sharing stories of him as a boy, all the words others have shared—and continue to share—help add great color to the memories I have. They also remind me that my dad meant a lot to people far beyond our family.
Listen, Then Act
As I’ve written, my family thinks of my dad when we see butterflies. One of my dearest friends knows this and showed up on my dad’s birthday with a butterfly keychain for me. And she brought my mom flowers in a butterfly vase on the anniversary of his death. Another friend of mine brought me flowers on a sentimental day, explaining she’d hoped to bring balloons so we could write messages and send them off into the clouds to my dad, but the store was out of helium. (So creative and sentimental!) And the neighbor I mentioned earlier, she was sweet enough to read a few of my blog posts after we talked, then said she’d love to have me over for a beer and some chocolate chip cookies—something I mentioned were my dad’s favorites in a blog post. She found a way to make a real connection to show she understood my loss—and love.
Keep Checking In
Of course you don’t need to make a big deal every time you ask, but it doesn’t hurt to check in with your friend now and then. A simple reminder that you’re continuing to think of them. Most people I’ve talked to have been amazed by how people expect grief to be “over” by a certain time. A week, a month, a year. But when you’re in it, grief isn’t linear. It comes and goes in waves. In the case of Newtown, friends and family are just a month into coping with a new reality, while for those of us who weren’t personally connected, it might seem like many news cycles ago. While life goes on, the grief doesn’t simply disappear. I have one friend who’s experienced the loss of her father-in-law, and she sends me sweet emails on holidays or other days that seem like they might be sentimental, just saying she’s thinking of me. It’s so thoughtful and gives me a chance to reflect on how I’m feeling.
This certainly isn’t an exhaustive list, and being supportive doesn’t require you to do all of these things. These are just some insights based on what I’ve been through over the past year or so, as well as conversations I’ve had with other friends in similar situations.
What things have people done for you—or said to you—that were meaningful during your grief process?
This is a tough one…..I’m sorry, how are you?, can I give you a hug? Can I spend some time with you and listen?……Just about anything will do when you feel so lost and alone, fancy isn’t important. We have experienced so many thoughtful gestures and words and creative and fun ones, too. They all say I love you and that’s really what you need when you have lost someone so dear to you.
So here is my thank you. Please know every little or large gesture was felt in a very deeply,much needed way. I love you all back. Dana (through my tears)
Very well said. xo
Amy, as we all get wrapped up in our own personal issues and busy schedules, one needs to be reminded of how to reach out to others in need. Thank you for these wonderful suggestions. Sending you, your mom, and your entire family hugs. I didn’t know of the butterfly connection until recently and glad that I now do. Each time I see one, it will be a reminder to stay in touch with and offer support to anyone I know who is grieving.
🙂 xx, L
I love that idea. I’ll do the same! xo
When my uncle was killed a few years ago, it was the smallest gestures that meant the most. A simple hand on my shoulder when someone passed my desk, a healthy snack appearing out of nowhere and always at the right time, a phone call from a friend just calling to say hi… every single day for over a year. It doesn’t take much to give someone comfort – and often it will not really be appreciated until later, when the grieving has subsided a little and you are able to reflect back on the people that were there for you.
Great points, Melissa. I think about your uncle and all you went through often. I’m so glad his namesake shines on!
Amy, this is really beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks so much, Lia!
Amy –
Thought this was pretty perfect. I loved you saying grief is not linear. I have been trying to figure out a way to describe it and that is absolutely perfect. When my dad died very suddenly I think we were all in shock and just knowing that people were taking the time to write notes and send flowers felt like a great circle of support. And sharing memories is a great idea – I saved a lot of cards that I look at often that people wrote me with thier memories of my dad.
I think anything you can do to try and make them laugh too. The thing I remember the most is one of my best friends from HS bringing over a cute bag full of magazines, candy, I can’t even remember what – like a sick care package almost. But what was the cutest was when she gave it to me she said “I am so sorry Blake – I don’t know what to say.” Then she lifted up the bag of stuff and handed it to me “Here is really just a bunch of sh*t” HAHA! I laughed so hard because it was so funny and so true – there is no cake or lasagna, or vase of flowers that is going to make someone feel better – she was just so honest and sweet about how at a loss she was for what to do but that she had taken the time to assemble a collection of “distractions” if you will and just wanted to let me know she was thinking of me. It was perfect.
That’s a great story, Blake! Yes, I think people forget that laughter can be very healing. Especially if that’s something that you’ve always enjoyed with a special friend.
Hi Amy- Another great post that is very timely as I’ve been meaning to write to the mom of my friend that passed away last month. My friend passed away after a year-long battle with cancer and Marco and I took our first trip alone in 7 years to attend her funeral in Orange County. My friend was single, had no children, but she did have a wonderful family and parents that basically moved up to San Francisco to take care of her during the last year. About a week after the funeral her mother sent out an email to her friends thanking US for being a presence in Lynn’s life the past year and how much it helped her feel connected to the world. I’ve been meaning to write a real letter (not an email) to Lynn’s mom for three weeks now to tell her… well I don’t really know what I want to say except that I’ve been thinking of Lynn a lot and thinking of her family a lot too. Your post has made me realize I just need to do it and to stop thinking that this letter has to be perfect. I just need to tell them I’ve been thinking of them.
Aimee, I’m so sorry for your loss. I had no idea you were coping with that. I have no doubt Lynn’s mom would love to hear from you! I’ll be thinking of you.
I agree with every point you made. You are brave and kind to write this. It will help others who care when friends are grieving, but don’t know how or are afraid to show it.
I hope so, Aimee. Thank you!
I know the cards and notes meant a lot to me…22 years later, I still have all the cards, notes, and letters from family and friends when I lost my mom….15 years since losing my dad. It never ‘goes away’ completely…..so many times I’ve wished for just one more day with each of them.
Beautiful post Amy….as always :-). Thinking of you and all your family. Thinking of you Dana.
It’s so sweet to hear that you still feel that loss and love. Amazing how the support and sadness stick with you. Sending love and appreciation for your kindness!
I really appreciate this post. Having lost someone who was not only my mother, but also my best friend, I really know what made an impact on me, and still does. I completely agree with the importance of the funeral attendance. Even 6 1/2 years later, I can tell you every person who came to honor my mom and what they said to me that day. I also had a friend who dropped everything to come help me care for my 14-day-old baby right after my mom passed. She left her 4-month-old baby to do this for me and I often think about what that meant to me.
I also vividly remember the one thing that was hard for me to hear when my mom passed. A friend said, “I don’t know how you’re getting out of bed in the morning. I wouldn’t be able to live without my mom.” I kow that she was trying to say “something” and be there for me. But this hit me hard.
Rachel, I think of you and your mom all the time. (But of course you wouldn’t know that because I haven’t always heeded this advice.) I can see what you mean about your friend saying that. It’s funny how delivery can change the message. I’ve had a lot of people say, “Dads are so special, you must be feeling a real loss.” And somehow that seems like the same sentiment, but a kinder delivery.
Thank you for sharing your experience! xoxo