In attending a grief journaling group recently, I was struck by the number of participants who were
grappling to come to terms with their condition in their own ways. One woman teared up constantly, and
another seemed removed from everything, as if she was draped in an invisible shroud. Still another person
presented a rather upbeat, pleasant attitude, but when asked to share his work, he mentioned that he was
grieving the sudden loss of his daughter four months earlier. There had been no outward indication of his
emotional turmoil until he shared what he was experiencing, which presented a somewhat jarring
juxtaposition of his inner angst and calm demeanor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It’s no secret that grief affects everyone differently. Not only are we all attuned to our own unique
emotional ecosystem before a major loss, but what constitutes a loss can be different for all of us. While
the death of a pet is generally regarded as extremely difficult, emotionally speaking, some people process
this as very sad, while others are nearly crippled by the anguish it brings to their lives. Grief is also not a
linear process; it can be viewed as something that happens in stages over a long period of time\u2014
sometimes changing a person for the rest of their lives. With all of these many complications, it’s no
wonder that we are uneasy when facing a bereaved friend, family member or co-worker. What can we say
to help? Is it best to mention nothing and avoid further damaging their already fragile state?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It’s tempting to back away from situations fraught with discomfort, particularly when we aren’t
sure how we can be of help. \u201cI’ll just make it worse,\u201d \u201cShe already seems upset,\u201d and simply \u201cI don’t
know what to say,\u201d are reasonable things to think, but also common excuses to disengage from a
potentially upsetting encounter. The truth is, a person in mourning is definitely already upset, and the only
thing likely to make it worse is feeling alone, isolated, forgotten or abandoned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The person most at risk of feeling upset or uncomfortable when engaging with an obviously
grieving person is \u2026 ourselves. Our culture doesn’t adequately prepare us to talk openly about loss or the
aftermath of death. We prefer euphemisms like \u201cthey passed away\u201d to convey one of the starkest realities
of nature. According to the US Census Bureau, 2.5 million Americans die every year, resulting in 13
million new grievers annually. With such high numbers, anyone around us could, and is, carrying this
burden.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI don’t know what to say,\u201d you might be thinking. It’s the most basic fear: you call a friend and
ask about how they are doing after their dad’s funeral and they just start to cry on the phone. It’s
unbearably awkward. What can you say? What can you do? No one wants to put themselves in that
situation. How can we get past that?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We can’t. To be a friend is to call, and keep calling. To be there and realize that you don’t need to
say anything at all; you merely need to listen. There are no words that you can provide that can restore a
loss, and our friends and family know that. But there are words that can restore our bonds, and that is
what our loved ones need. They need to feel that they are seen and cared for, even if it is just silent
communion in the darkest days. Our bereaved won’t remember what is said when they are hurting, they’ll
remember who was there for them and how you made them feel. Kinship, in all its forms, is part of the
slow medicine of healing from loss. Please let your care be stronger than your fear of awkwardness and
reach out to someone today and simply be there. With 13 million every year, it will be someone you know,
and a call is all you need to make a difference.<\/p>\n
Grief impacts everyone uniquely, making support difficult. As a result, the bereaved are often left
\nisolated in their time of greatest need. The article argues that simply being present and listening is
\nmore crucial than offering words. Consistent presence and care help restore bonds and heal, even in
\nsilence.<\/p>\n