A friend just lost a parent, a co-worker’s sister passed away, the much beloved pet dies, or one other of the many life events that throw people you care about in a place of grief. What do you do? What do you say?
Having recently lost my husband, I experienced the kindness, generosity, and genuine sadness of others. I also witnessed the level of disregard, selfishness, and nosiness of which some people are capable. I’ll share with you “what not to say.” I don’t pretend to have all the answers and I am fully aware your needs might be different than mine. I also appreciate each of us has a different style of supporting. I offer my insights and experiences as suggestions and alternatives.
“How are you doing?” Only ask if you want the answer to be something like “terrible,” “not so good,” or “I don’t know.” A better question would be, “What can I do for you that might make things a little easier?” People in grief generally are coping with an experience that is isolating, frightening, exhausting, and sad. They may have just come through the ordeal of a serious illness of a loved one, trauma of a sudden death, or the lengthy deterioration of an elderly person. It would be miraculous if they were “doing fine.”
Some people will say, “Okay,” but this is often because they think that’s what you want to hear (isn’t it?). Others may feel the question is too personal (it might be). An offer of help opens the door. Many times the grieving person won’t want or need anything at the moment but your having said to them, “I’m here for you” is not only consoling but gives them the option of taking you up on the offer at another time. Very often it’s the simple life tasks that seem so burdensome — checking e-mails, feeding the dog, filling the tank up with gas, taking the kids to soccer. They’re essential but seemingly trivial when you’ve lost an important person. That’s where you can help. Ask permission. No one wants a stranger parading into his or her home, taking over, but the person may agree to a small, specific offer. On the other hand, there are times when even the simplest of intrusions can feel like a disruption, or worse, an invasion. Suggest, offer, no strings attached, and be open to hear “no.”
“What are you going to do about…?” Asking someone in a grief state, what their plans are for selling a house, getting rid of a car, handling his or her job, or some other life-altering question is rude, useless, and often stems from your own curiosity or fears. Self-help groups encourage people to change nothing for a year. That is probably an ideal, may not be practical, but soon after a death is not the time to be probing or encouraging someone to make a big decision.
“He’s in a better place.” Caring people often think this is consoling, it rarely is. The griever probably longs for the person to be with them, not in another world. It also assumes you share a common belief about the after-life. If you must say something, “I hope she is at peace” seems more like your wish rather than an absolute or directive.
“You can always…” fill in the blank — marry again, buy another dog, have more children… and so on. This kind of insensitivity is heartless and stupid. People know they can get another but that’s not what they want, they want their loved one. Going to a logical place is not the solution to an emotional issue. Rather, encourage the person to mourn, take time, and then consider options. Many people view their loved one as the relationship of a lifetime, not replaceable. It’s their call, not yours.
“You have to be strong.” This was said to me so many times in the first couple of weeks of my mourning, I got a bit rude and replied, “Why?” or “Who said so?” I later decided what the speaker really wanted is for me to hold my emotions in check while around them. Again, it was about the consoler not the griever. Granted, all of us have responsibilities we can’t walk away from, no matter what happens. Children need to be cared for, arrangements made; jobs have to be covered but even some of these essentials can be done in weakened sorrow. Pretending you are going through a tragedy without huge emotional swings, I believe, prolongs the grief, confuses the brain, and places the focus on the wrong person.
“I’ll be there morning, noon, and night.” My reaction was always, “Please don’t.” I needed my space to grieve, privately. Also, everyone was trying to help me the first few weeks. What meant more was when the new normal started to settle in. At the three and six months point, the end of the first year, when few people call or ask you to coffee, when the flowers and food are long gone and you are there by yourself; that’s when the real need for contact begins.
“I know when I was…” I call this “I can top you.” This is when people have the need to tell you some gruesome story about a loved one they lost or read about. It relieves them of their anxiety for what to say. For the griever, listening is an added burden, not a way of joining forces. A simple reply of, “I can relate to that” will suffice. If the person is curious they will ask, but they probably won’t.
Please, don’t get me wrong, most people’s intentions are sincere and good. It’s their execution I often quarrel with. Before you make a comment, statement, suggestion, or offer, imagine it being said to you, you at your most vulnerable, most confused, and saddest, then share and offer.
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