The following tips have been suggested and endorsed by thousands of grieving people with whom I've had the privilege to work over my years as a hospice nurse and community based grief specialist. This bulleted list was put together with their help.
And while it may not seem profound at first glance, but it elicited more "Yes!" and head-nods than any single piece of grief-related information I've used over the years. Many grieving people who I've served in faith communities or businesses have commented: "I wish my family members and friends how to help me," or "If only the people I work knew what I was going through."
Tips to help me in my grief:
- Give me time -- don't expect too much, too soon. Grief is hard work. And it takes longer than most people imagine.
- Don't avoid me. It hurts when friends 'don't know what to say,' so they say nothing at all. This is awkward for me too; any expression of heart-felt sympathy is sincerely appreciated. At the same time, avoid cliches and easy answers: there isn't anything easy about my grieving. A simple "I'm sorry," is more comforting to me than a thousand pre-fabricated sayings like: "It was God's will."
- Listen to what I'm feeling as well as to what I'm saying. I may need to tell you the story of my loss, sometimes over and over again. Or I may not want to talk about it all. Don't attempt to minimize my loss or tell me how I feel -- you can ask, but not know. Please try to listen and learn from me; do not instruct.
- Understand that I need to be alone sometimes and not alone at other times. Offer to be with me, then respect my answers. Know that on any given day, that answer might change a few times as I try to discover my 'new normal.'
- Write me a card, text, or email -- especially as time goes on. A card, or a thoughtful email or text, can be read by me again and again, especially if it contains memories or thoughts about my loved one. Writing a note on special days or anniversaries helps me know I'm not alone in remembering my loved one.
- Give me permission not to respond to calls, texts, cards, or emails. In the aftermath of my loved ones' death, I receive hundreds of texts or calls. Each one is supportive and comforting. But the idea of responding to all these notes is overwhelming: it drains my already limited cognitive and emotional resources. If you put: "Don't worry about responding: I just wanted to say I'm thinking about you and sending love," at the end of each note, it relieves me of the burden of responding but still gives me your loving support.
- Make specific offers to help with house-cleaning, child-care, yard-work, errands, bills, etc. This works much better for me than: "Call me if you need anything." I won't call. Most of the time, it's too hard. On some days, just talking to another person is exhausting. Honestly, some days, even getting out of bed is tough for me to handle.
- Offers to deliver dinner or food are much appreciated. Cooking can be one more chore that's difficult to accomplish (though even food delivery can be overwhelming, at times). If possible, coordinate food delivery with friends and family. I'm more likely to accept dinner if it's delivered by someone close to me. Check out the link to How to Deliver food. Arranging for food to be delivered in a cooler out in front alleviates the need for me to have drop off and pick up conversations when I'm feeling low energy.
- Reminisce with me, or not. Sweet memories, sad ones, ambivalent, even tough ones -- these are all important for me now, part of working my past into my present. But follow my lead. Some times and memories are better than others for revisiting. And sometimes, I may be talked out. I might not want to tell the story one more time.
- Let me grieve in my own way. My grief is my own and your grief is yours. Please don't mix up the two. No one person is an expert in another's grief. Do not say: "I know just how you feel." You don't. I appreciate that you have experienced grief and loss too. But right now, I really can't hear about your grief story. Mine is already overwhelming enough.
- Some grief is complicated, just like relationships are complicated. I may be grieving the death of a relationship or a person who I didn't really like or who I have a complicated history with, like a ex-spouse or an abusive parent. I may be grieving the relationship that never was and never will be, the words never said, the issues never resolved. Allow me to grieve even though it might not make sense to you.
- I do feel broken sometimes, but don't try to fix me. Contrary to the 'five stages of grief theory,' I'm really not 'over it' once I've gone through denial, anger, bargaining, acceptance, or any other series of feelings. Please accept that grief is a life-long process, through which I will continue to grow. Don't put me in a box or label me with a stage.
- Please don't give advice unless I ask for it. I may want to tell you how I feel, without any feedback (no matter how well-meaning) on what you think I should do.
- Men and women may grieve differently. In truth, even though commonalities exist, each person grieves differently. In fact, even the same person may grieve different relationships in a different manner. That's as it should be. I might not want to talk about the loss. I might not seem like I'm grieving to you. And my eyes might not "sweat" much. That's ok. It's my normal way of grieving.
- My faith may be shaken -- give me time to integrate my loss into my spiritual beliefs. Try to be patient with me, even if I'm angry with God. (Don't worry about the Lord, He's big enough to handle my anger, and He'll keep right on loving me, no matter what.)
- Help me plan rituals and memorials. The funeral is a bit of a blur to me. But since then, I've learned that people all over the world celebrate the life of the deceased at different times and in different ways. Some cultures have a mass or service at forty days after the death; others have a 'death celebration' at the year anniversary mark. Some families might plan a big birthday party each year; others, a special ceremony on a wedding anniversary. Help me figure out what will work best for me.
- Check on me as time goes on via phone, text, email, letter, or visit. After the initial flurry of people and events, time itself seems to slow down. A single day can seem like forever without a phone call or encouraging message.
- Learn about the normal manifestations of grief. You'd be surprised how grief affects a person's whole body, spirit, and emotions. Many of the things that are troubling to you about me are really just the face of grief. As you may discover, "triggers" can cause a resurgence of feelings. This, too, is normal, though when I'm walking down the street and burst into tears, it can feel like anything but normal.
- Please don't forget the children. Just because they look OK, doesn't mean they are. Children grieve individually, like the rest of us. They, like us, re-grieve again with every developmental milestone. Don't protect them from grief; support, and accompany them. Teach their friends how to be supportive; friends are important to all of us.
- Offer to take me to a grief support group if I want, or attend with me if it seems too scary for me to go alone. Encourage me to get professional help if I get into trouble, or show signs of complicated bereavement.
- I may feel guilt, anger, or regret. Accept my words and my silences. Love me. Listen to me without judgment. Naming these feelings is the first step to working through them. If I get stuck in the midst of one of these, gently remind me, I may need help.
- I may be clinically depressed and in need of professional help. If you see me floundering or deeply depressed, gently nudge me or honestly tell me I might need to seek medical, psychological, or counseling help. If I need the suicide hot line, call 1-800-273-8255. Immediately. Keep me safe. I appreciate your abiding love, honesty, and direct help.
- And remember to take care of yourself. I will understand if you need a break. After all, I want you to be well-cared-for too. Did I tell you how much I appreciate you? I do. Thank you, more than I can say, thank you.