Last month we chatted about the worst things people have said to you while grieving. And while that’s an important topic of discussion, without some alternatives, it may scare people away from saying anything at all (which is an easy default when we’re already worried about saying the wrong thing). So instead, let’s provide some guidance.
Share with us in the comments the best thing someone ever said to you while grieving (or what you wish someone had said). Bonus points if you share why it was comforting or helpful.
And while this is subjective (like most things in grief), this conversation can help give direction to those who are feeling a little lost in what to say.
To me, HOW you say things is just as important as what you say. I appreciate when people validate my emotions, recognize the horror and the immensity of my loss, and tell me how it makes them feel, while still staying strong so that their feelings do not become my responsibility to carry (especially in early grief). To me, THAT’S the best support.
I have many but here are some of the best things people have said to me…
When my best friend agreed with me that losing my partner was the worst thing that could’ve happen to me. I appreciated when she added that she felt angry at life for its cruelty and injustice towards me.
When my sister in law said that her brother deeply loved me and, had he had the choice, he would’ve never suddenly “abandoned” me like this.
When my mom told me in early grief that my relationship with him would remain forever. That trauma and grief were two different things and that someday I would be able to think of him and feel my love for him without having flashbacks of the accident that killed him.
When a friend sometimes shared bits of her widowed friend’s story with me so that I’d feel less alone, while always mentioning that our stories were completely different, that I might not feel the same way and that it was totally okay.
The first time that I can recall really feeling "seen" in my grief, was when I opened Megan Devine's book It's Ok That You're Not Ok and read, "This really is as bad as you think it is." For me, I think the best thing we can do is just acknowledge the reality of the situation. Of course, this feels unbelievably cruel and unfair. Of course, you feel [angry, sad, confused, disappointed].
I totally relate to this one. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through” has always pissed me off, honestly, and is just an annoying platitude, in my opinion. Because you CAN imagine it…what you’re telling me is that you don’t want to imagine it because it’s too scary for you to do so, because that means that maybe this could happen to you too.
On a related note, I’ve had a few people say something like this and I really appreciated it: “I’ve spent time trying to imagine what this is like for you…what it would be like to lose my partner and everything that would just be gone / I’d miss. And even as I imagine it, I know that I still don’t fully know what this experience is like for you and I know it’s so much worse than I could ever imagine.” Both trying as hard as they can to understand and also acknowledging that they can’t ever fully know feels really validating and loving. Because it’s true…even if people try to imagine it, it’s SO much worse than we can conceive of hypothetically in our minds. I know because I did imagine what it would be like to lose my husband at times when we were together, and it’s 1,000,000 times worse than anything I thought.
I really appreciate it when people acknowledge my loss. So many people are afraid to bring up or remind me of my husband (as if I’ve forgotten him/forgotten he died). It is horrifically painful to not acknowledge my loss, my pain, my reality but on the flip side, a simple “I’m so sorry for your loss” goes a long way.
I did not get much support or empathy. The "best" was when someone would just acknowledge that she passed, and leave it be at that. Just a simple sorry. No questions, no need for story time. It didnt force me to dig it all up and allow the pain back to the forefront of my mind.
My best friend told me she would be taking my kids overnight every Friday so I could do WHATEVER the heck I wanted! A Set date so I never had to ask. It was exactly what I needed!
My sister told me I didn’t have to answer the phone, emails, text messages. It was so freeing to be given “permission” to have the space to not have to be polite.
Nothing specific comes to mind because I’ve been very fortunate to have some people I’m really close to say a lot of affirming, helpful, appropriate, and loving things…and still do almost 2 1/2 years later. (I’ve also had people who are close to me NOT say the greatest things, so it’s definitely not all been good.) So I guess I’ll share more broadly about three things that were (still are) really helpful for me.
The first is people who just did something without asking me to let them know what I needed / how they could help or (the worst) left it totally open-ended, like “I’m here if you need anything.” The people who just dropped off food weeks later, went and cleaned my apartment or watered my plants when I was still staying with family, said “I’m coming over so we can take a walk,” etc. was perfect. I had no idea what I needed or who I needed it from for SOOO long…let alone had the energy/bandwidth to reach out and ask for it, even if I did know.
The second is some of the things other grievers said to me early on, so I had some sense of what might be coming and felt validated in my feelings. My cousin, who was widowed at 41-years old, 11 years before me, kept reminding me that the only way through is through. And this next one isn’t for everyone, because it was definitely hard to hear at the time, so soon after losing my husband…but looking back, I REALLY appreciate her honesty, because even six weeks in (when she said this), I already had a sense that it was true. It was something a former colleague said to me who was widowed in her early-40s (like me) about 8-9 years prior. She said: “Here’s how I’d summarize it. 1) It’s fucking hell and the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. 2) Unless someone has experienced this first-hand, they cannot and will not understand. And 3) As a result, you’ll both lose friends and make new ones.” Again, it was hard to hear…but the first part really made me feel seen, and the other two parts motivated me to seek out and connect with other young widows.
Lastly, is what some people say, or have said, to me on the “big dates.” My first piece of advice for people who love a griever, is find out what the big dates are and reach out on all of them…not just the date the person died because they’re all hard. Some things that stand out to me is a friend who’s lost both of her parents texting me at like 11:23am on my first Christmas without my husband with just this message: “12 hours and 37 minutes to go. Sending you huge hugs.” I also REALLY appreciated all the people who didn’t say “happy birthday” when they called or messaged me on my first birthday without him, and instead focused on their gratitude that I was born on that day and/or acknowledged how hard the day must be without him. Nothing about that birthday was remotely “happy”, and I actually got angry when people wished me a “happy birthday.” On his birthday and the date he died, I really appreciate the people who actually say his name, tell me they miss him too, and/or share what they love about him.
So yeah, actually, that last sentence just gave me one succinct answer to your question: The best things people have said to me are all the things that include them saying his name…something people are often so afraid to do.
“He’s not dead. He just moved. He is more alive now than he was on the earth!” These words from my sister brought comfort and hope and reminded me of keeping that eternal mindset and that this earth is not my home
"I have a lasagna for you. I can just put it in your fridge."
"I love you."
"What do you need? I won't take 'nothing' as an answer so please make a list so when anyone asks, you can give them something that will help you." (They sent me a heating pad and books)
I appreciate when people can share positive memories they have of my husband, even if they are bittersweet. I also appreciate the people who let me share my story without offering commentary or platitudes other than unconditional support for the decisions I made as he approached end of life. I don’t need anyone making me second guess how I handled an incredibly difficult situation.
The most unhelpful thing was the phrase “Let me know if you need anything.” You’re just adding another task to my already full plate by asking me to find something that will make you feel helpful. I also found that the people who said that didn’t actually come through and help when I did need more support.
I also appreciated those friends who didn’t need to make every single interaction be about my grief. Yes, it is a big part of my current human experience, but it doesn’t always need to be front and center.
To me, HOW you say things is just as important as what you say. I appreciate when people validate my emotions, recognize the horror and the immensity of my loss, and tell me how it makes them feel, while still staying strong so that their feelings do not become my responsibility to carry (especially in early grief). To me, THAT’S the best support.
I have many but here are some of the best things people have said to me…
When my best friend agreed with me that losing my partner was the worst thing that could’ve happen to me. I appreciated when she added that she felt angry at life for its cruelty and injustice towards me.
When my sister in law said that her brother deeply loved me and, had he had the choice, he would’ve never suddenly “abandoned” me like this.
When my mom told me in early grief that my relationship with him would remain forever. That trauma and grief were two different things and that someday I would be able to think of him and feel my love for him without having flashbacks of the accident that killed him.
When a friend sometimes shared bits of her widowed friend’s story with me so that I’d feel less alone, while always mentioning that our stories were completely different, that I might not feel the same way and that it was totally okay.
The first time that I can recall really feeling "seen" in my grief, was when I opened Megan Devine's book It's Ok That You're Not Ok and read, "This really is as bad as you think it is." For me, I think the best thing we can do is just acknowledge the reality of the situation. Of course, this feels unbelievably cruel and unfair. Of course, you feel [angry, sad, confused, disappointed].
The first person that said “I can imagine” instead of “I could never imagine”. That has stuck with me.
I totally relate to this one. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through” has always pissed me off, honestly, and is just an annoying platitude, in my opinion. Because you CAN imagine it…what you’re telling me is that you don’t want to imagine it because it’s too scary for you to do so, because that means that maybe this could happen to you too.
On a related note, I’ve had a few people say something like this and I really appreciated it: “I’ve spent time trying to imagine what this is like for you…what it would be like to lose my partner and everything that would just be gone / I’d miss. And even as I imagine it, I know that I still don’t fully know what this experience is like for you and I know it’s so much worse than I could ever imagine.” Both trying as hard as they can to understand and also acknowledging that they can’t ever fully know feels really validating and loving. Because it’s true…even if people try to imagine it, it’s SO much worse than we can conceive of hypothetically in our minds. I know because I did imagine what it would be like to lose my husband at times when we were together, and it’s 1,000,000 times worse than anything I thought.
My best friend said, "you'r so far below rock bottom you're stuck in the molten lava." I have to say, I appreciated her honesty.
I also appreciate her honesty, even if it doesn't feel "positive" to others (because often times reality isn't positive).
I really appreciate it when people acknowledge my loss. So many people are afraid to bring up or remind me of my husband (as if I’ve forgotten him/forgotten he died). It is horrifically painful to not acknowledge my loss, my pain, my reality but on the flip side, a simple “I’m so sorry for your loss” goes a long way.
I did not get much support or empathy. The "best" was when someone would just acknowledge that she passed, and leave it be at that. Just a simple sorry. No questions, no need for story time. It didnt force me to dig it all up and allow the pain back to the forefront of my mind.
Honestly, nothing stands out. How sad is that.
I'm guessing you're not alone in that...
My best friend told me she would be taking my kids overnight every Friday so I could do WHATEVER the heck I wanted! A Set date so I never had to ask. It was exactly what I needed!
My sister told me I didn’t have to answer the phone, emails, text messages. It was so freeing to be given “permission” to have the space to not have to be polite.
Nothing specific comes to mind because I’ve been very fortunate to have some people I’m really close to say a lot of affirming, helpful, appropriate, and loving things…and still do almost 2 1/2 years later. (I’ve also had people who are close to me NOT say the greatest things, so it’s definitely not all been good.) So I guess I’ll share more broadly about three things that were (still are) really helpful for me.
The first is people who just did something without asking me to let them know what I needed / how they could help or (the worst) left it totally open-ended, like “I’m here if you need anything.” The people who just dropped off food weeks later, went and cleaned my apartment or watered my plants when I was still staying with family, said “I’m coming over so we can take a walk,” etc. was perfect. I had no idea what I needed or who I needed it from for SOOO long…let alone had the energy/bandwidth to reach out and ask for it, even if I did know.
The second is some of the things other grievers said to me early on, so I had some sense of what might be coming and felt validated in my feelings. My cousin, who was widowed at 41-years old, 11 years before me, kept reminding me that the only way through is through. And this next one isn’t for everyone, because it was definitely hard to hear at the time, so soon after losing my husband…but looking back, I REALLY appreciate her honesty, because even six weeks in (when she said this), I already had a sense that it was true. It was something a former colleague said to me who was widowed in her early-40s (like me) about 8-9 years prior. She said: “Here’s how I’d summarize it. 1) It’s fucking hell and the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. 2) Unless someone has experienced this first-hand, they cannot and will not understand. And 3) As a result, you’ll both lose friends and make new ones.” Again, it was hard to hear…but the first part really made me feel seen, and the other two parts motivated me to seek out and connect with other young widows.
Lastly, is what some people say, or have said, to me on the “big dates.” My first piece of advice for people who love a griever, is find out what the big dates are and reach out on all of them…not just the date the person died because they’re all hard. Some things that stand out to me is a friend who’s lost both of her parents texting me at like 11:23am on my first Christmas without my husband with just this message: “12 hours and 37 minutes to go. Sending you huge hugs.” I also REALLY appreciated all the people who didn’t say “happy birthday” when they called or messaged me on my first birthday without him, and instead focused on their gratitude that I was born on that day and/or acknowledged how hard the day must be without him. Nothing about that birthday was remotely “happy”, and I actually got angry when people wished me a “happy birthday.” On his birthday and the date he died, I really appreciate the people who actually say his name, tell me they miss him too, and/or share what they love about him.
So yeah, actually, that last sentence just gave me one succinct answer to your question: The best things people have said to me are all the things that include them saying his name…something people are often so afraid to do.
“He’s not dead. He just moved. He is more alive now than he was on the earth!” These words from my sister brought comfort and hope and reminded me of keeping that eternal mindset and that this earth is not my home
"I have a lasagna for you. I can just put it in your fridge."
"I love you."
"What do you need? I won't take 'nothing' as an answer so please make a list so when anyone asks, you can give them something that will help you." (They sent me a heating pad and books)
"Do you need someone to check on your cat?"
"I always have space for you."
I appreciate when people can share positive memories they have of my husband, even if they are bittersweet. I also appreciate the people who let me share my story without offering commentary or platitudes other than unconditional support for the decisions I made as he approached end of life. I don’t need anyone making me second guess how I handled an incredibly difficult situation.
The most unhelpful thing was the phrase “Let me know if you need anything.” You’re just adding another task to my already full plate by asking me to find something that will make you feel helpful. I also found that the people who said that didn’t actually come through and help when I did need more support.
I also appreciated those friends who didn’t need to make every single interaction be about my grief. Yes, it is a big part of my current human experience, but it doesn’t always need to be front and center.