When in doubt, be human. Karl Menninger
The time immediately after my mother's
death was fresh in my memory, or so I thought as I began to create this page. As I reflect on the few days leading up to her
funeral, I am stunned that I don't remember much of it.
In the time shortly after a death, there is usually a
flurry of activity: funeral arrangements, calling hours, notifying family, and lots of people stopping by or phoning. In a
small town, or close neighborhood, there are many gifts of food.
I know there was a lot happening around me, but
I wasn't paying attention. My mother's death was unexpected. My sister and I were in shock. The most helpful thing one of
my sister's friends did for us was to take charge. She fielded phone calls, answered the doorbell and organized the food.
She labeled each dish so that it could be returned with ease to its owner and started a list of names to use as a guide for
later thank you notes.
The comment I most appreciated at the time of my mother's death was, "I am so sorry.
I loved your mother, too." I cherished the moments when people shared stories and memories of my mother. Frequently,
a hug was more soothing than a thousand words. I also needed to recount the difficult time after surgery, which led to her
death, and mourners who listened helped me the most.
My mother befriended young people. One such young woman told
me a humorous story about Mom and lacy red undergarments. I won't go into detail, but I laughed out loud while standing beside
Mom's casket. Disrespectful? Not at all. The humor captured the essence of my mother. Laughter can provide blessed relief
from the albatross of grief.
People who want to help seem to know what to do in the hectic time immediately following
a death. But after a week or so, they return to their own lives and we are left alone to grieve and feel empty. The rest of
this section offers ways to help others after the initial rituals
of mourning are over.
TopI believe the most valuable gifts you have to offer a grieving friend or loved one
are the gifts of time and listening. When we are in pain, we have a powerful desire to share our burden with someone
who will listen and care. Grief demands that we tell our story--again, and again, and again. This retelling helps us review
the emotional memories of our deceased loved one, both good and bad, and is a vital step in healing.
sounds simple, but it requires real effort to listen well. We may start out with the intention to listen, but we can change
our purpose of listening to something else without even noticing it. For example, we start by listening, but end up needing
to be an expert, to correct, to defend a point of view, to offer advice, or to escape pain by abruptly changing the subject.
To glimpse how difficult listening is for most people, try this: Notice others in conversation and see how often
someone in the listening role shifts away from listening before the teller has finished speaking, sometimes interrupting
the teller in mid-sentence. Most of us are so busy thinking of what we are going to say next, we don't hear what the other
person is trying to convey. Staying focused on the intent to listen takes practice.
I have heard it said that
silence is golden and no section about helping others is complete without mentioning the value of silence. Most people are
uncomfortable with silence. We seem to have a need to fill up the empty spaces. Sometimes all we can do for a grieving person
is to be present in the moment without words. Our nearness is all that matters.
Speaking for the sole purpose
of filling a silence is not active listening. Stay with your role as listener. Your grieving friend may be introspective,
confused, uncertain, or remembering. The internal work is important. Strive to understand the speechless moments for what
they are--and give the gift of silence.
Friends in mourning need your undivided attention: grievers want to talk
about their grief, not yours. In the beginning, it is most helpful to listen to your friend’s grief feelings rather
than share your own experience. People new to grief often misinterpret your intentions to help and sharing a story that begins,
“I remember when my father died,” shifts the focus away from your grieving friend. That’s not what you intend,
of course, but the newly bereaved are in the grips of their loss and need to talk about their dear one who has died.
I remember telling a friend by phone that I had returned the day before from my mother's funeral. She responded with, "That's
a bummer" and then launched into a blow-by-blow description of her afternoon. I know she was feeling her own stress,
but a simple condolence would have gone a long way with me. My intellect understands she had nothing to give me that day,
but I hung up feeling utterly dismissed with some unkind thoughts about my friend.
Share your experience if asked,
but a good rule of thumb is to wait until the shock of death changes to the reality of the loss. This shift in grief is a
very rugged part of your friend’s journey. Sharing your own experience, strength and hope will be a gift of healing
when your friend is ready to hear you. Right now he hurts too much to talk of someone else's pain, or the possibility of ever
feeling better. Your greatest gift is listening to the sorrow.
Avoid giving unsolicited advice because it can be
taken as a personal criticism. Phrases such as, "If I were you, I would..." suggest a standard of behavior and imply
you do not think your friend is measuring up. What worked for you may not be the best solution for another person. If your
friend asks for advice, phrase suggestions carefully along the lines of, "I can't know what is best for you. You might
consider..." Most of all, remember that people new to grief need empathy from you, not advice.
As a friend,
it is not your job to be a therapist, but I'll offer some words of caution here. Expert intervention is needed if a person
talks of harming self. Any threat of suicide is serious. In your role as helper, you can call 911,
the police, a local suicide hotline, a family member, or get your friend to an emergency room, but please don't keep the threat
of suicide to yourself. Take action on your friend's behalf.
Please refer to A Natural Desire for Reunion to learn more about suicide. Includes a summary of guidelines for helping those left to grapple
with the aftermath of suicide. Go to Alan
Wolfelt's Helping a Suicide Survivor Heal for compassionate advice on how to support a grieving friend after the death of a loved one by suicide.
Sometimes people who grieve become dependent on helpers and intensify their pleas for others to take care of them.
If you sense this is happening with the one you are trying to help, accept your personal limits and encourage your grieving
friend to seek professional counseling. Hospice organizations in most cities offer grief therapy support groups, at little
or no cost, and are listed in the phone book.
Offer to attend a grief support group with your friend. Sometimes
going with someone you know is easier, especially in the beginning. Your friend does not have to face a room full of strangers
or a new situation alone. Don’t expect your grieving friend to jump at this idea, but it is in the realm of friendship
to make the offer. Do this only if you are comfortable with the idea.
What can you do to help others who grieve? In the weeks after a significant loss, when everyone
else has returned to their own lives, pick up the phone and call the person you want to help. Ask how he or she is doing--then
be willing to listen to the answer with empathy and compassion. Not all grievers cry, but most have memories to share
again and again, and stories to tell and retell, as part of normal grieving. Please remember that sorrow is a vital part of
healing and grievers will be grateful for those who can sit with them without telling them to cheer up. For more on this,
go to I'm Grieving As Fast As I Can.
No one can grieve all the time, however, no matter how close the relationship was before death. Grievers need
to be encouraged to take breaks from their grief while still knowing it is safe to talk about their sadness. Invite your bereaved
friend or loved one to join you for lunch or coffee, a walk, or other pleasant activity, but don't ignore the loss or act
like nothing has happened. Allow the conversation to go where it needs to go.
You can't fix grief with cheer and
grievers need to grieve. Despite your best efforts, your friend may decline your invitations to go out because grief takes
huge amounts of energy. Ask again at a later time. Send a flower for no reason except to say I'm thinking of you.
A month after my mother died, I received an unexpected gift from a dear friend who lives in another state. In her note,
she wrote: I am sending items to comfort you, as a mother would. The comfort package contained warm fuzzy socks, a candle,
bath salts and body lotion, lavender-scented sachets, a CD of soft music and tea. It was one of the sweetest gestures of friendship
I have ever known.
For more ideas on how to help, click Start Today. Refer to Good Intentions for the well-meaning, but unhelpful, things people say to the newly bereaved.
you, too, have a friend who needs comforting right now. When we help from our hearts, we are putting love in action. Be a
companion on the journey of grief. When in doubt, be human.
The following poem may be helpful in easing the burden of grief for a special friend. You can choose, instead, to send a personal favorite.
Better yet, compose your own poetry. In the era of instant messaging, handwriting is a lost art. Slip the poem inside a handwritten letter; make a card yourself, print the poem on pretty paper; or yes, include it in an E-mail. It really
is the thought that counts and the time you took to show you care.
Sharing in Your Sorrow
©2000 Abbey Press
I know this time of grief is so
difficult for you,
And thinking of you hurting breaks my heart in two.
We can never really know how another
I only hope you know that my concern for you is real.
I just wish there was something more that
I could do
To take away the sorrow that is weighing down on you.
Although I cannot change things, this I can
My loving thoughts, my heartfelt prayers,
For you, my special friend.
Go to next page: Good Intentions / Unhelpful Remarks
can’t I find a page or link that used to be here?
Over the last ten years, The Grieving Heart® meandered
into many topics and lost its purpose. I have deleted 40 pages to bring it back to the original focus of grief and helping
Web addresses come and go and I cannot guarantee the accuracy, safety or longevity of third-party (external) sites.
Adding links by request, or finding and fixing broken links are massive time consumers, so I have deleted many outside sources
and will limit additions in the future. The external links that remain are checked on a regular basis and related to
grief, helping grievers and pet loss.
will continue to honor and remember veterans and fallen soldiers because it is the least I can do for those who have
given so much.
I hope that my renewed attention
to grief information will make The Grieving Heart® a better experience and comfort for you. Thank you for visiting. CJ
Christine at The Grieving
Heart dot info
About E-mail: One way to decrease SPAM caused by Internet
bots is to deactivate the live address link. You can still contact me by typing this address into your
own e-mail program using @, a period, and no spaces, the standard e-mail format. Thank you.
Note to Visitors:
I read and
respond to grief email at the end of each month when I update this site. If you need a more timely response, please visit
a well moderated grief healing discussion group. It is free to use and requires registration to participate. I am not part of this group, but certified
grief counselors are there to help, support and comfort grievers and those who love them. Because the
counselors lost funding for the site, they are grateful for voluntary donations.
Why no links to Facebook and other social media? Click here for the answer.
How complicated and individual mending is, the time required for healing
cannot be measured against any fixed calendar. Mary Jane Moffat
© Copyright 2008 - 2018 Christine Jette.
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