1. Five phrases to avoid discussing with a mourning companion,
I've learned this the hard way. My dear husband of 23 years passed away at the end of July, two years after being diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer. Since then, I've seen friends and neighbors stumble over the right words, and I've been taken aback by how even the kindest questions can catch me off guard.
There's no one-size-fits-all response, of course. What helps me might not help someone else, and phrases that I find uncomfortable might be comforting to another person. However, after chatting with a few grieving individuals, including my own kids, I've gathered some helpful "do's" and five surprising "don'ts."
No. 1: 'How are you?'
You might be surprised at how heavy this simple question can feel. A friend wants to check in on how you're doing. What's wrong with that?
The issue, my kids and I discovered, is that it's an almost impossible question to answer. Our emotions of grief shift constantly, from minute to minute, so there's no one answer that fits. Are you asking how I'm feeling right now? I can respond to that, but my feelings could change in the next second. Are you asking how I'm managing life? I don't have an answer for that yet.
We find it easier to answer more specific questions, like how was college drop-off? How was the first day of school? How was dinner last night? Specific questions are less daunting than those that delve into the existential.
No. 2: 'What can I do to help?'
It took some digging to figure out why this offer from well-meaning friends didn't sit right with me. I think it's because it shifts the responsibility to the griever to help the helper. The helper wants to contribute something – but supporters who have experienced loss often don't have the words or even the awareness of what they need or want.
An approach that worked well for me: neighbors who dropped off food or flowers without asking. They didn't knock on the door or wait for permission to enter. They simply left something on the doorstep. One helpful friend even showed up and started doing my dishes without asking.
One morning, as I struggled to gather the energy to prepare breakfast, a delivery truck pulled into our driveway. Out came bags of bagels, platters of cream cheese, smoked salmon, fresh fruit, and a hot coffee carafe sent by my coworkers. I hadn't thought to ask for anything, but it turned out that's exactly what I needed.
No. 3: 'I can't imagine what you must be going through.'
One of my teenage daughters, who's passionate about theater, helped me understand why this phrase can grate on some people: It implies a lack of creativity.
The subtext behind this phrase, according to my daughter, is: You've never experienced loss or death? Have you never seen a movie about loss or death? Like "The Fault in Our Stars," maybe? Were you dry-eyed when Mufasa died in "The Lion King," or did you feel Simba's pain? Her guess is that people can imagine a devastating loss, but they don't want to imagine it for themselves or have to think about how painful this is for us.
While it's understandable that we want to shield our friends from our pain, the statement inadvertently isolates us on a grief island, as though loss were an experience solely ours. Instead of placing our emotions in an impossible-to-imagine silo, consider connecting with us emotionally. Try saying something like, "I remember when I lost my X and felt X." Or perhaps share a specific memory, like "I really enjoyed watching your dad coach you in soccer. I'll miss that."
A statement like that tells us we're not alone.
No. 4: 'This is so unfair.'
I was taken aback when friends, particularly friends my age, said this. I've long since lost faith in the idea that life is neatly divided into fair and unfair categories. Instead of trying to disentangle grief from injustice, I've learned the practice of radical acceptance.
Radical acceptance, introduced to us by our grief counselor shortly after my husband's diagnosis, basically means accepting that some things are glorious, while others are just plain tough. Instead of asking, "Why me?" or "How could life be so unfair?," I now say, "This is what I'm dealing with. What's the best way to move forward?"
Radical acceptance has become a game-changer for me when it comes to tackling difficult situations. Instead of questioning why I'm facing this, I ask, "What's the most constructive way to deal with it?"
People going through a loss need to manage their emotions carefully. It's exhausting to grieve for prolonged periods, so we adjust the intensity of our feelings. I discover I need to earmark specific hours to read condolence letters and reply to sympathetic emails, conserving energy for daily tasks like tending to my kids, maintaining my job schedule, able to pay bills, and returning my spouse's leased car.
Being overwhelmed by grief leaves me incapable of functioning as required. Visitors showing up in tears inadvertently prompted me to join them in their mourning, forcing me to grieve according to their timetable rather than mine. At times, it seemed like I needed to comfort them and assist them in coping with their loss, further burdening my mental health. If you feel the urge to pay a visit to someone who has recently suffered a loss, consider bringing cheer and lightness to help lessen their grief load.
What to speak when words fail
An exquisitely crafted letter, email, or message expressing one's feelings proved to be an exceptional approach for us. I could read and absorb the sentiment at my own pace, at a moment I chose for contemplation. A dear friend presented a lacquered box where I could keep my condolence cards as a memento, bringing back memories of the profound impact my husband had on our community whenever I desired.
Remember that it's perfectly fine to not know what to say. It's also acceptable to take a moment before responding. A while back, an old friend texted me after not reaching out for months since my husband's demise. She wrote, "I haven't found the right words to text you."
I fully understood her message, and somehow, those words resonated with me perfectly.
After experiencing the loss of my husband, I've come to appreciate specific questions over existential ones. They're less daunting and easier to answer, such as how was college drop-off or how was dinner last night. Regarding help, I found it more comforting when neighbors simply dropped off food or flowers without asking, or even doing small tasks like washing dishes without being asked. These gestures provided immediate relief and were exactly what I needed at the time.
