How to Walk Through Grief with a Friend

A friend lost her daughter unexpectedly. I’d read once that it was good for the bereaved to talk about their loss, and that we—their people—could encourage them by asking questions.

A bit of time passed and I asked my friend a specific question or two. My intent was good, but it was the wrong time and the wrong place. She teared up and said, “I don’t really want to talk about it because it makes me cry.”

As a result, I learned the hard way—by making my friend cry—to be sensitive to each individual. Because so many factors can come into play, like, if the person in deep sorrow is ready to talk about their loss, or if they’re tired of talking about their loss. Even the location of the discussion can come into play.

Knowing there are no specific guidelines that fit every bereaved person for all time, here are a few suggestions for walking beside a friend in grief from my experience of watching my husband slowly die of cancer:

1. Bring our gifts

During my husband’s hospice period—that season when the patient is no longer seeking treatment—so many gifts piled up at our front door and later in Hospice House.

A friend offered the use of her infuser with soothing aromas during the long, slow, sweet good-bye. Flowers were always lovely to receive. Good friends gave the gift of paying for cable during football season. They also brought over a small portable television that set near my husband’s hospital bed that occupied our living room. Another dear friend—knowing how addicted I am to chai lattes—delivered a hot chai to our front porch every day for several weeks. When my daughter came to stand beside me, this kind friend delivered a hot chai and an Americano coffee for the remaining weeks until my husband passed.

There were books, and food, and candles, and mismatched socks with the manufacturer’s tag that read: “Life’s too short to wear matching socks.” So many lovely, creative ways that said, “I care about you.”

After my husband passed, a sister-in-law sent a lovely bracelet with a charm that read, “Half my heart is in heaven.” And my daughter ordered a necklace with two miniature dog-tag-like charms from Etsy (she had asked her dad to write his name and the words “I love you” on paper before he passed). One charm was engraved with his name, and the other with “I love you”—both in his scribbled handwriting. I wore the bracelet and necklace for the longest time … because they were sweet reminders of the people who stood beside me in my sorrow.

2. Say something

Until my husband died of cancer, I tended to shy away from people in grief—not knowing what to say, afraid I’d say the wrong thing. When maybe all they wanted was for me to acknowledge their pain and loss.

Of course there are words that are not helpful, like, “I know what you’re going through” (and then start talking about our own loss).

As for spiritual platitudes or positive-thinking clichés—avoid them like the plague: “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.” “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I can’t think of anyone who wants to hear those types of adages in their grief.

It’s also not helpful to comment on what you think might be a positive aspect about the passing of a loved one. “At least your husband is no longer in pain.” The widow knows this, but it doesn’t necessarily help with her own pain.

After a deep loss, author Shauna Niequist noted who walked away and who walked toward her. If you don’t know what to say, she wrote, try something like this: “I don’t know what to say, but I’m here.”

3. Put love into action

It’s one thing to express, “Let me know if you need anything.” It’s quite another to be specific with our offer to help: “Can I come by and take your kids for frozen yogurt and to the park?”

Instead of asking if you can bring dinner, try something like this: “I’d like to bring dinner. What’s your family’s favorite pizza?” Instead of asking if they need any yardwork done, simply tell them: “We’re coming by this afternoon to shovel the snow off your driveway and sidewalk. Is that okay?”

I know more widows than widowers. Which means the newly bereaved wife could probably use help with lawn-mowing, leaf-raking, or snow-shoveling at a time when she’s overwhelmed by all that needs to be done in laying her husband to rest. And at some point, she could probably use help with small repairs around the house.

The specific offer of a meal, or activities for the kids, or housecleaning goes far in saying, “I care deeply for you.” (Of course, if you’re like me, you’ll scrub your place before the housecleaner shows up.)

Putting love into action is powerful. I can list all the people who stepped in and left steaming chai lattes on our front porch for weeks, who unclogged our toilet, who visited and made my husband laugh from his hospital bed. I will never forget their kindnesses.

4. Be present

An important component of walking beside a person experiencing deep sorrow is simply the giving of our time—to sit still, and be with them, and listen if they feel like talking.

Again, this depends on our relationship with the bereaved. And the timing. And their personality. If they’re a private person, don’t push them to talk. But make sure they know you’re available: “If you’re up to it, I’d love to take you for a coffee or chai latte.”

The person may accept or decline, depending on what they’re facing or how they’re feeling at the moment. But the invitation is out there. And you can follow up from time to time in a gentle way that doesn’t add more stress to their lives.

It’s not easy to be around the bereaved. And not because we don’t love them.

Normally, it’s because we don’t know what to say or do. We hurt for them. We want to ease their pain. We want them to know we’re available to help carry the load of being a single parent, or the load of being a seasoned and wiser person who doesn’t drive.

Author Shauna Niequist wrote about people who are uncomfortable around the bereaved, or who are afraid of saying the wrong thing:

“There’s something worse than the things people say. It’s much worse, I think, when people say nothing.”

So this reminder is for me: Don’t walk the other way. Say something.

Don’t just sit there. Do something.

Don’t absent yourself. Give a gift. Be the gift.