Do This No. 3: Help a Grieving Friend

by Simone Eastman

Hey boos! This one is kind of going to be a bummer, OK? We’re going to talk about what you should do when something really bad happens to someone you care about. I’m specifically talking about the Care and Feeding of Grieving People, but I think a lot of these things also hold true when someone receives really bad news of most any kind. (Except the one about going to the funeral, but there are other ways to show up for people, so maybe even that one counts.) It’s hard to know what to do when someone we love is facing something awful. We don’t want to do the wrong thing or get in the way, or we want to help but don’t know how to, or we face a huge flood of fear and sadness that feels hard to push away long enough to be supportive, or they don’t seem to want or need help. But there are some ways that you can be present and supportive. (This poem, “What I Learned from My Mother,” is totally the jam on this subject.)

I always write from my own experience, so I know you might not agree. That’s okay! But here are five things to consider when you’re faced with the challenge of graciously supporting a loved one.

1. It’s totally fine to say “I’m sorry,” even if that’s all you know to say.

I know that “I’m so sorry” feels pretty contrived at this point, but it works. Maybe steer clear of trying to make them feel better, because as much as you want to, you probably can’t. There really isn’t a right, perfect thing to say. Isn’t that terrible? Isn’t that sort of the worst part? You can’t fix it. No one can.

So trying to say something else will probably fall flatter than “I’m sorry” ever would. Avoid making comparisons to your own experience, too. It’s hard not to do that, but there are very few situations where it’s really appropriate or comforting. For a long time I had a huge chip on my shoulder — and no, I’m not proud of this, but it’s part of what grieving has been for me — about what it would mean to be understood. I was not really interested in hearing from anyone who had not lost a parent when they were young. It just didn’t help me, as well-meant as it was. Just say you’re sorry, listen, and validate. Nothing more is needed.

2. You should send a card to someone who’s grieving. You might want to buy some not-ugly ones to keep on hand.

Sympathy cards might feel weird to send, but I promise you they’re almost always appreciated. You don’t have to write something long. Something like “Dear Simone, I was so sorry to hear about your mom’s death. I’m sending you all of my good wishes for gentle comfort in the days and weeks to come. Love, Simone.” You don’t have to try to understand, and you don’t have to offer a shitty platitude about the universe or about how things happened. If you want, you can write to me and I will help you draft a note!

And you don’t have to settle for the butt-ugly cards that Hallmark sells. I like ones that don’t say much other than “with sympathy.” Because being a li’l orphan has given me a kind of morbid (?) mindset, I actually buy nice sympathy cards when I see them so I can send something thoughtful when I need to. Here, I found a few for you. Nice blank cards or notepaper are fine, too. I just find the Greeting Card Industrial Complex ones to be really cloying.

3. Ask how you can help, but be prepared to just do something without being directed.

This is so tricky, because your instinct will be to say something like, “Please let me know if I can help,” and you’ll totally mean it but there’s a really good chance that your grieving friend is not capable of telling you what you could do to help. On the other hand, you also don’t want to do something not helpful (like send a lovely bouquet to someone with mad flower allergies). There are things that you can do, though, without being asked, which will probably be appreciated. Anything that helps a grieving person take care of herself — literally take care of her person — is a winner.

A gift certificate for meal delivery service or a gift card to a place with prepared foods (Whole Foods?) is really nice. I actually had people bring me bags of groceries a couple times — healthy stuff AND treats — which was good because I was subsisting on cigarettes and Diet Coke. I’m sort of obsessed with Edible Arrangements because if someone had sent me a basket of pre-cut fruit when I was sulking around in my dead mother’s muumuu, I probably would have eaten a little better.

Offering to clean a room or rooms in their home or to run a load of laundry or to walk their dog can also be really helpful. Offering to spend low-key time with them — going for a walk, having a cup of tea — in a specific, time-limited way can also be good. Being specific matters — offer a specific day/time or a couple options. When you’re in a crisis it can be so hard to make decisions about little things.

4. You should probably go to the funeral.

Put some nice clothes on and go to visiting hours or shiva or the funeral. That you did so will be remembered, I promise. I can imagine some folks who really can’t do this — really, really can’t — and that’s fine, but if there is any way you can gather up all your courage to go, it helps. It helps a lot for someone to turn around and see a community of people behind them on what might be one of the worst days they’ll ever have. If you’re nervous because you don’t know enough about whatever religious ritual you might have to participate in, do a little research first. I promise you you won’t embarrass yourself, though.

5. Don’t disappear.

Sometimes stepping back after the immediate events that follow a death or crisis makes sense — you’re not gonna get up in your HR manager’s grill a couple months after her mom dies, you know? But if we’re talking about a friend, don’t disappear. They may not know how to respond in a gratifying way for a while, but they need you. It never bothered me when someone left me a message saying “HAY GIRL, just thinkin’ of you, you don’t have to call me back unless you feel like it.” And sometimes someone offering to take me for a walk was an almost-literal lifesaver. Grief is very lonely, even if we all face it — it feels very, very singular and very alienating. Lots of crises do, actually. And if you can keep reaching out, you can help make it feel a little less lonely.

Previously: Don’t Do This No. 2: Validating With Purpose.

Simone Eastman is a cat lady.