Editor’s Note: This is the second installment in a weekly series leading up to the May 5th publication of my book, Dispatches from Grief: A Mother’s Journey Through the Unthinkable. Available to pre-order now for hardcover, Kindle, and audio (read by me). ~ Danielle Crittenden
IF YOU ARE lucky enough never to have experienced a tragedy or sudden death in the family, you may get tongue-tied when faced with someone who has.
Here are some common sympathies uttered to those of us on the receiving end:
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I can’t even imagine…”
“Words can’t express …”
“At least they are with God/in heaven/in a better place now.”
“At least their suffering is over.”
“As hard as this is now, I know you’ll get through it. It will just take time.”
“Don’t hesitate to reach out.”
There’s no reason to be embarrassed if you’ve used some of these phrases yourself. The kind impulse that underlies them is a desire to comfort people in serious distress. You want to make them feel better. You want to offer them hope. It wouldn’t occur to you that those might not be the words a grieving person needs to hear.
Let me unpack why — and then offer some better alternatives.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
This one is actually fine, as condolences go. But it’s inadequate if it’s the only sentiment expressed. We appreciate that you are sorry. So are we. And —?
“I can’t even imagine …”
No you can’t. Thank your lucky stars!
“Words can’t express …”
They’re all we’ve got.
“At least they are with God/in heaven/in a better place now.”
Fine for the person who’s dead. Sucks big time for the earthly survivors.
“At least their suffering is over.”
My suffering is just beginning!
“As hard as this is now, I know you’ll get through it. It will just take time.”
Really? How do you know that and how much time exactly?
“Don’t hesitate to reach out.”
This is a phrase that should be struck from all conversations — not just as it relates to grief. It puts the onus of action upon the person in need.
SO WHAT IS preferable?
What I’ve sadly learned since my daughter Miranda died is that I want comforters to lean into — and not away from - the experience of grief. From everything I’ve heard from my fellow grievers, most of us feel this way. You just need to figure out which of the following suggestions suits the circumstances or person. Take this as a general guide.
So, for starters, I genuinely appreciate that you are sorry for my loss. Let’s go from there.
1) Pick, add to, or combine any of the following sentiments:
I can imagine how terrible this must be for you. I know how much you loved [late person]— and how much they loved you.
They were [insert unique qualities about that person].
Describe what you enjoyed about their personality and/or what it was like to be in their company.
Throw in a funny story. Laughter is healthy. “Do you remember when…”
If the late person did something meaningful for you, now is the time to talk about it.
2) Ask sincerely about the well-being of the living:
How are you doing really? Are you getting sleep? Are you able to eat? How is [mother, father, husband, wife, sibling etc.] coping?
Is anyone staying with you? Or: Are you able to cope on your own?
3) Turn your attention to what the grieving person is going to do now and by “now” I mean in the coming minutes, hours, and days:
Can I get you a coffee/glass of water/glass of wine/another shot/valium?
Here, you sit down. Let me do that.
Can I pick up anything for you? Seriously, it’s not an inconvenience. I’m going to the store anyway.
If it’s helpful, so-and-so and I would like to organize meal drop offs/visits/babysitting (or whatever seems needed). You don’t have to do anything. We’ll be your point people.
4) Assure the grieving person you will there for any reason, and even for no reason at all:
I’m thinking about you all the time. If you need to speak to me, I’m here. At any hour. If I don’t hear from you, I’m still going to check in on you. Okay?
Then: Do it. Reach out as often as you think necessary. Early on: frequently, even daily if you are a close friend. Doesn’t have to be much. A text: Hi. Stay in contact at least weekly as time passes. Remember, so many people fall away quickly but the grief lasts and last.
5) Provide opportunities for companionship. Spontaneity is good.
I’m driving by your house tomorrow. Do you want to get coffee?
Are you up for going out to lunch?
It’s a beautiful day. Do you want to go for a walk?
6) Last, do not offer advice or judge the amount of time the grief-stricken “still” seem to be grieving.
Avoid any sentence that begins with “You should …”
Do not pretend to know how they feel or what makes them feel better.
Don’t compare their grief to someone else’s: “When my aunt Gladys was widowed, she was back playing tennis the following week …”
Above all, listen, listen, listen.
And hug, hug, hug.
Have I missed anything? Feel free to share in Comments.
In my last newsletter [link], I wrote about the difficulty of finding books that spoke frankly about the brutal experience of sudden loss, especially the death of a child.
Since then, friends and other grieving mothers have shared with me books that helped them through similar tragedies. I’ve also found companionship in some online communities. There seem to be social media accounts for every type of grief. (On Instagram, for example, search for “grieving mothers.”)
If there are books or communities that have helped you, please share in comments. We would love to hear about them.
Here are three the books I found most helpful during my earliest stages of grief.
C.S. LEWIS’ A Grief Observed is rightly considered a classic. First published in 1961, Lewis wrote about his day-to-day experiences while he was in the throes of grief right after the death of his wife, Joy Davidman, in 1960, from cancer.
Unlike other celebrated classics — including Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’ On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss — Lewis offers an unsparing view of what it is like to emotionally, physically, and spiritually grieve. Lewis vividly describes how his loss permeates every aspect of his day, how it affects his relationships with friends and colleagues, how he struggles to return to his faith in God. Lewis inspired me to write my book from a similarly graphic, personal point of view.
***
MANY ADVICE BOOKS tend to take the “long view” of grief and recovery. But when you are writhing on the floor after a sudden loss, these books feel like the equivalent of a doctor offering an aspirin to treat a hemorrhaging artery.
Jan Warner is the first responder you need. Her bestselling book, Grief Day by Day: Simple Practices and Daily Guidance for Living With Loss, offers the immediate CPR the title promises. Warner, who has a masters degree in counseling, realized she didn’t know how to help herself after her husband, Artie, died. She sought various types of therapies, bereavement groups, and traveled abroad for experimental treatments. But the biggest challenge Warner faced, she eventually realized, was not how to “heal” but “how to be fully alive while knowing loss has changed us forever.”
Grief Day by Day is the Michelin Guide for those who inadvertently find themselves in the Alternative Universe. Warner leads the tour with insight and empathy, casting light on the dark path ahead.
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BY CONTRAST, MARTHA W. Hickman’s Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief is the oxygen mask to Warner’s full-scale triage. Hickman published her book in 1994, after her 16-year-old daughter, Mary, fell from a horse and died during a family vacation in Colorado. Hickman understands that grief is best dealt with in small, deep breaths. Every page offers a comforting “meditation” on different aspects of grief, pulled from literature or written by Hickman herself. Each entry ends with a suggested intention for that day — even if it’s one that simply inspires you to get out of bed and brush your teeth. Some mornings that’s a huge accomplishment.
Readers, did a specific book help you through difficult times? Let us know in Comments.
NEXT WEEK I will publish an excerpt from my book. Until then…
While not exactly a helpful book, this quote from Shakespeare's King John is wonderful as it gets in terms of describing grief:
Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?
Hello Danielle, Feel like having coffee sometime this week? lol! This book deals specifically about the death of a child and has been translated into multiple languages.. The Worst Loss: How Families Deal with the Death of a Child, by Barbara Rosoff. https://www.amazon.com/Worst-Loss-Families-Death-Child-ebook/dp/B00MLND6VY/ref=sr_1_1?crid=20DAWRY3UU48T&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.Dx-7P9HmHcJ2CCjIC58vHY0inlnC_gsLGyMc411LfKlpUJ5gh-_Uerkm1PNOuiWJn4_liHkTurEqXNsTbxqwNaMb0iEIcpYkcNmbS6RCsaI.pkOgGO6wgl-jAghJnzjfYec6bM5iOIFNWcaMmjq6wIs&dib_tag=se&keywords=the+worst+loss&qid=1776488690&s=digital-text&sprefix=the+worst+loss%2Cdigital-text%2C299&sr=1-1