You Can’t Take Away Their Grief, But You Can Be There

Above all, show your love. Show up. Say something. Do something. Be willing to stand beside the gaping hole that has opened in your friend’s life, without flinching or turning away. Be willing to not have any answers. Listen. Be there. Be present. Be a friend. Be love. Love is the thing that lasts.  ~ Megan Devine

If this is your first encounter with someone who is mourning, you are wise to learn more about the grief experience and to let go of some of the harmful myths you may have heard about grief and healing. Don’t assume that someone who seems to be experiencing little pain or sorrow is “doing well” with grief. Take some time to reflect on your own experiences of death and grief. Recall who died, what was helpful and unhelpful to you, and how you felt during that time.

If any of the suggestions offered here don’t fit with a particular culture or tradition, or if they don’t seem appropriate for you or the person you want to help, simply set them aside and consider the others.

As soon as you learn that a death has occurred, there are several things you can do right away:

When Grief Takes Away Everything That Was Normal

There is something about losing a mother that is permanent and inexpressible—a wound that will never quite heal. ~ Susan Wiggs

A reader writes: My mom died of cancer three months ago after seven years of fighting. I am 22 years old, and I feel as though I have lost everything that was normal. I miss my mom so much. She was my very best friend. I just need someone to talk to who understands. I feel so alone.

I am a Christian, and my faith helps a lot, but I literally don't have anyone. My dad had to move away. My boyfriend of three and a half years broke up with me one week after the funeral, and my friends are too involved with college and partying. I feel like I have been robbed.

Grieving Without Numbing The Pain

Frequency of drinking is less important than the role that alcohol plays in the life of the grief victim.— Margaret Gerner

A reader writes: It's been a terrible and bumpy ride so far. Yesterday I wasn't too bad—at least not after I saw my grief counselor. This morning I drove our eldest son and his wife to the airport so they could return to their studies in the U.S. I've had all three children, plus one daughter-in-law, with me this past month. We were all at my husband's bedside when he died.

I made the trip to the airport fine. I was able to concentrate on the road, say goodbye without too many tears, and drive home again. Altogether, it was a four-hour trip. When I got home from the airport, I collapsed into tears. It was still early, so the two sons who are staying with me—for now—were still asleep. I took a sedative, then had a glass of wine, followed by another. Nothing helped.

I never drink in the morning. I'm not even usually a drinker, and I'm not the type to use sedatives or sleeping pills. Now I'm wondering if I'm headed down the road to addiction.

Hospice Care Doesn’t End With Death

Endings matter, not just for the person but, perhaps even more, for the ones left behind.  — Atul Gawande

In his article, Demystifying Hospice Care, medical news and information reporter William Stroh argued that hospice organizations need to do a better job of informing the public about the services they provide. He urged them “to fire up a dialogue with people in their community about hospice care” and to “engage with the community on a regular basis through popular sharing sites such as Facebook and Twitter.”

I couldn’t agree more. Through such efforts, I hope more patients and their families will come to understand that when a life-limiting illness no longer responds to treatment aimed at a cure, they can turn to hospice for the comfort, care, and support they need.

But did you also know that your local hospice organization may be one of your best sources of bereavement information, comfort, and support—both before and after a death?

Living With Loss Without Living in Grief

Trying to forget someone you love is like trying to remember someone you never met.  ~ Unknown

A reader writes: It's been a week since the fifth anniversary of my Mum's passing. Since then, I have found that I'm trying to forget about it. Putting it to the back of my mind and hoping it doesn't appear in a conversation. Is that wrong? It’s also been six months since I visited the cemetery, but it's not because I find it hard to go there, I suppose I feel that it's not important to. Is that wrong?