It might seem, from the list I’ve collected and am sharing below, that it’s darn near impossible to say the right thing to someone who is grieving, that it might actually be safer to say nothing at all. But trust me-even saying the wrong thing will always be better than saying nothing or avoiding the person until you feel that enough time has passed that it’s “safe” to be around them again without bringing it up.

If you think it’s too hard to find the right words, consider sharing the silence. Hold their hand, touch their arm, give a hug or a smile (making eye contact). Listen if they want to talk, but try not to give advice.

THINGS TO AVOID SAYING TO THOSE WHO ARE GRIEVING . . .

Don’t say, “Your loved one is in a better place now.” Even the most devout Christian isn’t usually comforted by that. They’re still feeling the “better place” is home with them.

Don’t ever, ever, ever say, “You can always have another child.”

Don’t say, “I know how you feel” unless you have lost a loved one of, well, the same rank (a mother if you lost your mother, a child if you lost your child). Instead, you can say, “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling.”

It may sound like a compliment to say, “You’re so strong. I couldn’t go on if it had been me,” but to the person grieving, you’re saying, “Wow. Her death didn’t affect you like losing a child would for me. I must love mine more.”

Try not to say, “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger,” or the equally overused, “God never gives us any more than we can bear.” A more appropriate response would be to say, “I hope you can find the strength to bear your loss” or “to get through this time.”

Don’t ask, “So, how old was your grandma?” And then, when the mourner answers, “Ninety-two,” you follow it with, “Wow. She lived a long life. You should be thankful you had her so long.” That’s kind of saying, “Hey, she was old. How can I really feel bad for you? And you shouldn’t feel bad for yourself either. It was time.” Instead, you should say, “I doesn’t matter how hold they are. You always miss them when they’re gone.”
Never use the word “closure.” Don’t ask me why. Just don’t.

“Things happen for a reason” Yeah, sometimes they do, but while the grieving is fresh, you can’t think about that. Besides, sometimes they only happen for a reason if you can MAKE there be a reason (by starting a fundraising campaign, by enacting tougher drunk driving laws, etc.) and the newly grieving aren’t ready for that.

“God needed her more than we did.” It’s kind of presumptuous to be speaking for God, don’t you think? Plus it sort of discounts how much those left behind needed that person.

“You still have your memories.” Memories are one of the most painful things at this point.

THINGS TO AVOID SAYING TO A PERSON WHO HAS LOST AN INFANT OR SUFFERED A MISCARRIAGE . . .

“Be thankful you still have your other child.”

“You can always adopt.”

SUGGESTIONS FOR WHAT YOU CAN SAY TO THOSE WHO ARE GRIEVING . . .

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“I have so many wonderful memories of her. Can you remember when she. . .” Don’t be afraid to talk about the person who died. It feels so good to know that others think about her, that she made an impact on someone else’s life. People die, but love never does. If you don’t talk about the person who died, it’s almost as though she never lived.

“I don’t know what to say, but I’ll be glad to listen.” Encourage them to talk, to share memories. I’ve learned that the more I told my story, the easier it became. When a new realization or memory would wash over me, the pain would be fresh again, but talking about it a few times made it lose its sting. I appreciated those who asked the questions that made that possible for me.

“What can I do to help?” (Then offer something, like “I have to stop by the store on my way home. Is there anything you need? How are you set for milk and cereal? Would you like me to get some thank you cards and stamps?”)

Have the courage to say the deceased person’s name. If you didn’t know the person who died, don’t be afraid to ask about her. What was she like? Did she look like her sister? What did she do?

A FEW OTHER TIPS . . .

The anniversary of the death can be particularly hard, especially the first one. If you can find some small way to acknowledge that day, it will mean a great deal. My friend Julie Blackwood is so good at this. In one of Camille’s last photos, she was holding her fingers in the position that means “I love you” in sign language. For the third anniversary of Camille’s death, Julie gave me a tiny pin of a hand in that same position. It didn’t make me cry. It didn’t even make me sad. It made me feel cared about.

Continue to extend invitations to the person who is grieving, but reassure them you won’t be hurt if they decline. Don’t decide for them that the occasion would be too difficult. Let them decide. If they do decline, respect their decision, but don’t stop inviting them. What might be too difficult to consider doing two months after a loss might be completely do-able a few more months down the road.

For the parent who lost a child, it can be hard to hear other parents who have more than one child complain about sibling rivalry, about how hard it is to get to parent-teacher conferences at two different schools, to soccer games scheduled at different fields, to get one girl to Brownies and the other to dance. And it’s even worse when you hear someone admire a person’s toddler and the parent jokingly says, “Here. Take her!” It stings. I catch myself wishing I could just blurt out, “OK!” or “I’d give anything to have that problem!” But, of course, I don’t. Occasionally, in the midst of complaining, one of the moms will remember my loss, and I can see the awkward realization wash over her. During one such moment, the mom stopped mid-sentence and said, “I’m so sorry. This kind of complaining must be hard to hear.” In that instant, my pain subsided. I never realized how important simply acknowledging a loss was until that moment, or how valuable-and appreciated-the right words can be.

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