guide to supporting grievers
January 15, 2021
Part of what makes grief so hard is that we don’t have a cultural framework for it. We are unsure how to be in grief and unsure how to be with someone grieving. This uncertainty, the discomfort of the raw emotions and the confounding awkwardness of not having a social protocol to follow makes us stay away from the person who needs people the most.
I wanted to capture some of my experiences to be able to lay some stepping stones to help the people who read it show up for others. “All our difficult times involve some degree of shame, fear and loneliness. At times like that we don’t need anyone to impress us or skillfully take us out of our pain. We mostly just need the kindness that compels us to try.”
Show up
A friend is someone who stands by you in hard times. That’s it. Death, loss and heartbreak are the hardest. It’s a time when someone has nothing to give and needs to be loved and held. If you care for someone, this is the time to show it and this guide will hopefully show you how. I know you are busy. I know grief sucks and you have a lot of excuses why you can’t show up, but show up anyway. Put their name in your calendar, pick up groceries, text or call earlier that day to state your expected arrival time and be there. If you can’t do that, send a text, call, send a card or small gift, ask if there is anything practical they need help with, like walking their dog or another mundane chore.
If you can’t show up, it’s okay
The worst thing you can do is to let a griever down, especially if you are close. Show up! Do whatever you can to show up. Show up in the capacity you are able. That being said, if you don’t have the time or the emotional space that is okay. It’s better to do what you can (send a text, make a call) than to make grand promises that you break or do nothing.
Don’t say you will, then don’t
To be let down by a close friend canceling plans in grief is beyond devastating. Know yourself, know your limits, be clear with your boundaries, and stay within your capacity. Not all of my close friends could be there for me, and that was okay. Not everyone has to show up, just enough people to carry the griever through.
Try not to ask questions
If you have ever been in depression you know what a brain fog feels like. In a response to trauma parts of the brain stop working and answering questions can become inordinately stressful. "How are you?” and “what can I bring you?” were enough to send me into tears. This was so tough because both of these questions come from a loving and supportive place, which made me feel all the more guilty for the fact that they had the opposite effect. Try to ask questions with concrete answers that don’t involve too much thought.
“Where are you?”
“When can I drop something off?”
“What are you doing right now?”
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Is there anything on your to do list that I can do for you?"
Definitely bring food
Food is a theme here. The Jews got this one so right. I could not shop, I could not cook, I really couldn’t stand up to make a plate for a while. Bring food. Bring anything. If someone asked me what I was in the mood for it was so kind and thoughtful and would send me into hysterics because I had no clue and now I was in a stressful position of letting the person down when they were trying to help and had asked what should have been a simple question. Any food is good food. It’s important to know someone’s general dietary restrictions, but other than that if you don’t know what to bring, bring your favorite comfort food. Pick up takeout or prepared meals that are easy to heat or to grab and eat like fresh fruit. If you can, put food on a plate and put it in front of them. Home-cooked and enough to last several meals is the dream. Cookies were a favorite for me, but it was the hearty soups that really nourished me. This may not be true for everyone, but I would prefer someone brought anything at all than ask what I wanted. It was just too complicated.
Be pushy
It’s hard to ask for help and hard to receive it. Everything is hard. Push through the discomfort and show up. Don’t ask permission or wait for a request. Show up with food and be ready to talk, listen, or just be. You can leave food at their doorstep and message them or see if they would like to visit and be prepared to not take it personally if they don’t. Your efforts will be appreciated. Just show up and let things happen. The griever likely doesn’t know what they are doing or what they want. How are you supposed to know? You aren’t. Just show up and try things and risk getting it wrong.
Be a distraction
My friend came over with a meal, put it in a bowl for me, then we sat on the porch and she talked about a podcast she heard about Qanon while I ate and it passed an hour during the hardest week when time was moving so slow and I had no clue how to get through the days. I needed people to sit with me and talk about their lives or tell me about something they had heard or read. All the time in grief isn’t about emotional heavy lifting, it can be about passing time through the worst of it.
Get them outside
We are lucky in Texas that the winter weather allows for walking. I appreciated my friends who came and took me on a walk. I needed to move, to get the fresh air, to have an excuse to get dressed, to walk my dog. Offer to pick the griever up or walk in their neighborhood. If they can’t walk, suggest you sit in the sun. Pro tip: bring tissues for them just in case.
Be ready for feelings
The griever won’t necessarily want to talk about grief or cry, but be prepared. Feelings come unexpectedly. It’s hard during COVID because you can’t necessarily put your hand on your friends back or hug them. You won’t know what to say and no matter what you say you won’t be able to make it better. The most important part is that the griever isn’t alone in their pain. Sit there with an open heart and validate the feelings with “this sucks,” “this is so hard,” “It’s so painful.” The death may bring up unpleasant emotions such as anger and resentment for the recently deceased. Be prepared to hold space for that and definitely don’t shame the griever. It’s important to feel it all.
Don’t try to make it right
It’s easy to be uncomfortable with feelings, especially the tidal wave of grief and it’s complicated mix of emotions. It’s hard because we want our loved one to feel better. We are nervous not knowing what to say. Resist the urge to soothe the person or offer solutions. This made me downright angry. I didn’t want to be fixed, I just wanted to feel how I felt. Common platitudes to avoid include being grateful for the time you had together, knowing things will feel better in time, and advice, such as to stay busy or be strong.
Say the wrong thing
You are going to say the wrong thing and that’s okay. Grief is awkward, uncomfortable, hard and confusing - for the griever and the one there supporting. My favorite voicemail was over a minute long as my friend cast about trying to find the words. I appreciated her vulnerability in calling me without a plan and being willing to stumble through it. I related to that. It felt real and raw and I felt so loved. Let the griever guide you, but know that it won’t necessarily be with words. If you feel you have misstepped, don’t gloss over it, briefly apologize and move on. Remember, this isn’t about you.
Read the room
It was hard enough to feel how I felt, communicating how I felt was almost impossible. I was very tired and after 45-60 minutes of visiting I would need to rest. A few times I was able to say that, but other times friends could see that my batteries had run low and they excused themselves. If you are sitting with an open heart and your attention on the griever you can tap into how they feel. Trust your gut. Take a guess. I know it’s hard, but this is something we could all stand to do more of in our everyday lives. Be led by your intuition and not your cognitive sense of propriety.
Stagger the relief
Grief has many chapters and the needs change endlessly. A lot of people sent messages right when they heard the news and, while I appreciated it, I was so overwhelmed with taking care of things I couldn’t receive it. I asked my friends to pick a number from 1-90 and write my name in their calendar to check in on me then. At first I just needed food and people to help me pass the time or sit with me while I cried. After two weeks I needed visits. After four weeks I was ready to talk about it.
Hold space
Holding space is to create a safe container for someone else to go through something. This boils down to being present. Drop any notion of how it ’should’ look or what you ’should’ say and be there. Feel your feet on the floor. Take deep breaths. Focus your attention on the feeling around your heart and imagine a warm light or an open door. You want to be a regulated nervous system in the room or on the phone so the griever can fall apart and then back together in your presence.
Don’t take up space
Remember, this isn’t about you. A lot of people who reached out wanted to talk about times in their life that they felt loss. There is a difference between bringing something up and processing it. Bringing up your own experience with grief, either in your mind or by sharing it, can help increase your ability to be empathetic and open your heart. Processing your grief puts the onus on the griever to hold space for you, which is not appropriate.
Table any problems
Your friend in grief is not your friend. For the first month I was a shell of a person, barely able to complete the simplest and most basic tasks of personal care and hygiene. This was not a good time to talk about any issues. Let your friend’s loss remind you of how short life is and how little the small things matter and let them go. This is not a time to try to discuss anything going on outside of mourning.
Give a lot of grace
Grief took all my social graces. I didn’t have the presence of mind to offer my guests water or ask about what was going on in their lives. I would lose my train of thought in the middle of a sentence and forget things I was told multiple times. I lost my filter and would blurt things out that perhaps could have not been said. I wore the same clothes for days on end and didn’t look in mirrors. The bar for all things must be lowered.
Grievers are a gift
This is a strange thing to say, but on the other side of grief I have found it to be true. When I talk to someone grieving I still feel tongue tied and stammer. When I write I type and delete over and over. Once I work past platitudes what eventually comes out is only truth. I don’t need to say the “perfect” thing, I say what is happening. “I wish I could say the perfect thing.” “I keep writing and deleting.”
When I talk to someone grieving I remember how broken I felt, how raw I was. I remember how I straddled the two worlds then came back to earth. I remember what I knew so keenly then - that life is impossibly fragile. That our time here is short. That nothing is more important than the ones we love.
Lean towards those who are mourning. It’s an honor to be there to support someone, not a burden.