What to say to someone grieving

And what NOT to say... advice from those who have been there.

I have a confession to make: I, often, have no fucking clue what to say to someone wrapped up in the fog of fresh grief. I feel a bit of a fraud admitting this but I think it just shows how tough it is to find the right words, even when you’ve experienced grief yourself (and… erm… write a newsletter on grief… please forgive me.)

There are a few reasons why I struggle. One: there really is very little someone can do to make losing someone ‘better.’ It’s just shit. And just because I’ve been through my own pain, that doesn’t mean I can understand what someone else is feeling or experiencing.

The person grieving is (or was in my case) in auto-pilot. They don’t know what they’re doing, what they’re hearing. They’ve found themselves in a house full of flowers and they’re reading cards and thinking ‘is this for me? Am I now a person who receives ‘deepest sympathies?’ It feels unreal. I can remember feeling incredibly tired of hearing anything related to my loss.

I heard the same things over and over again so I gravitated towards friends who I could still joke around with, who told me gossip and filled me in on their lives. They weren’t people who skirted around or avoided talking about what happened to me, they allowed it when I needed it but, crucially, they didn’t look at me like I’d suddenly transformed into a cracked, porcelain doll. Someone to be pitied; something easily broken. I wanted to be seen as strong – and they made me feel that way.

But the more I reflected on it, I realised that I suppose this in itself is advice – your friend is still your friend. They don’t want to feel alien, or different all of a sudden. Don’t ignore what happened to them (as one person told me ‘don’t tie yourself in knots, say something simple and soon’) but also know you’ll probably never manage to say the perfect thing.

I also think, depending on your relationship with the person, that practical things can really help. When my mum was diagnosed I was due to go to university in a couple of months but suddenly my family was swept up in caring for mum and facing and getting to grips with our new reality. The admin I needed to defer my place completely slipped all of our minds. But one of mum’s friends remembered. She sat me down and gently helped me fill in the forms to defer my place. I think of her, and that kindness often, I don’t know what would have happened without it.

Those who dropped off soup and frozen meals (but crucially didn’t expect us to ‘host’ in any way) helped, as grief takes up all your energy. There was also the incredibly generous friend who upon learning our dishwasher was broken straight-away ordered us a new one to arrive that day (this is an extreme example but still someone that recognised something practical they could help with).

As for what not to do or say? I think the key thing is to remember that grief may come out in different ways. That it might not look like how you expected it to, and you need to let your friend behave how they need to behave. If they’re angry, let them be angry. If they want to go out and meet boys and pretend things are normal, like I did, let them. Of course, this isn’t a free pass for terrible, or dangerous behaviour, if you’re really worried about them, then find a sensitive way to step in.

But before you do, just imagine being them… Are you worried for them because their grief doesn’t look like what you expected it to? I was behaving like a 19-year-old, like all my friends were. It didn’t help to be told that my behaviour was worrying when everyone else around me was acting in the exact same way. It only served to make me feel more alien. Which, in turn, made me bury my grief even more. And if someone is being a bitch for a while, or not being the smiley, happy person you’re used to? Well, yeah, there’s a good reason for that. It’s more than likely it will pass. Sometimes to love is simply to allow someone to be, letting them know always that you’re there.

They’ve gone through something seismic and are learning how to rebuild themselves amidst the rubble. Getting there won’t be linear, it might involve even more destruction and what they create could be entirely different. Don’t pressure your friend to be the same person they were before.

Finally, as I want to share the brilliant answers I got when I asked for the best (and worst) things said to you during grief, remember… grief can remain long after the initial period of loss. Keep reaching out, long after those bunches of flowers have wilted and died off.

Small note: grief is hugely complex and individual… my advice above and what’s been shared below is personal. Hopefully it could help but equally it might not. I know that makes this a really hard job! I’ve definitely found it too scary and avoided saying things in the past. But silence really is the worst thing you can do so if you’re looking for something simple to say, I think the first one on this list is a good place to start.

What to say…

(I’ve kept everyone anon, thank you for contributing! You know who you are)

“I remember someone saying to me ‘however you’re feeling is normal’ and it really helped.”

“Both times I miscarried and was grieving I really liked it when people just said: ‘I don’t know what to say but I’m here.’ No advice, no comparing. Just kindness.”

“I lost my dad very suddenly, and in one of the first phone calls after that a friend rang me up and said ‘do you feel up to telling me what happened?’ which was a really nice low pressure way to invite me to talk that I felt I easily could have said no to.”

“Share your memories of the person. I love to hear people’s happy memories of them! It’s just really nice to hear that they were loved and made an impact on the world.”

“In the period directly after my boyfriend killed himself I had a friend who reminded me that, though it was excruciating, in a year’s time it would be a year in the past, and in two years’ time it would be two years in the past.. Not that it wouldn’t hurt or change me but that I would be two years further on in recovering from it. It blew my tiny grieving mind and has been the one thing I thought really made a difference.”

“You did your best to be there as much as you could and they knew how much you loved them.”

“Being asked specific questions rather than ‘what can I do.’ For example, ‘do you need any food? Can I help with paperwork?’”

“When my dad died his mate sent me a lovely long message and included in it was: ‘the day my father died someone tapped me on the head and said ‘he lives in there now’ and whilst it annoyed me at the time, no one has ever said a truer word. I sometimes feel closer to him now than when he was alive.”

“I think little and often check ins are way better than long and exhausting chats. Something I’ve done for friends is just send little presents through the post – it doesn’t have to be big, it can be an orange twirl or a nail polish. It’s always a joy to receive things through the post and is a nice way to send strength or support.”

What not to say:

“On the second anniversary of losing my baby full-term, one of my closest friends said she was “surprised it still affected me”

“I feel the worst thing people can do is to NOT TALK ABOUT the person you have lost/are grieving/are honoring. People tend to believe they are trying to protect you from feeling sad, and their intentions are likely good. Still, the sufferer longs to talk about, remember, and reminisce about the loved one they lost. It hurts to feel abruptly disconnected from - not only their physical presence after death, but also stifled from referencing and celebrating their overarching presence in every facet of daily life.”

“Time is the greatest healer. Even though it’s true it’s not appropriate or comforting to hear, particularly really soon after a loss.”

“When I got back to work after my dad died very suddenly one colleague, very dramatically said, ‘oh my God you must be devastated’ and in my head I was like ‘well yes but I’m just trying to get through the day so please don’t tear open the wound and dig around in it.”

“I personally hate when people start using weird formal language, like ‘at this sad time’ like a newsreader. I haven’t’ become a completely different person!”

“‘They wouldn’t want you to be sad’ It’s well meaning but can serve as a guilt-trip, like somehow you’re letting down the person you’ve lost by being in pieces. But that’s totally normal!”

Thanks again to everyone who shared. I want to keep this conversation going, so if there’s any thing you’d like to add please let me (and others reading) know in the comments.