5 ways to help your grieving loved one

Photo: Joanna Kosinska

When a loved one or friend experiences a loss, it’s natural to want to be there for them. Often, people reach out and say “let me know how I can help.” This is thoughtful in theory but can leave the burden on the bereaved person to reach out when they are already feeling overwhelmed. A better way to be supportive is to take action or provide options your friend can choose from. Here are five concrete ideas for ways you can help a loved one in the middle of grief.

1. Organize a meal train.
A common practice when someone is grieving is for people to bring food to that person’s home. Unfortunately, people often end up bringing food at the same time early on, leading to multiple meals that need to be refrigerated or frozen (or worst case if there’s no storage, thrown out). Meal trains are a great way to help organize meal delivery so that early barrage of food drop-offs is avoided. Mealtrain.com is a website that helps streamline the process online. It allows the recipient to provide information about approved drop-off days, food preferences, and interaction preferences (if, for example, they prefer not to chat at drop-off). When people sign up to participate using the link, they can also see what others are bringing, which can prevent an over-abundance of one food category. Tell your loved one that you plan to set up a meal train, ask them for any of their preferences, and do the rest of the coordinating yourself.

2. Organize thank yous.
With meal trains, flowers, cards, and contributions also comes a long list of people to thank. Helping your loved one keep track of the list of gifts from others will alleviate a significant mental burden and make things easier when they have to write thank-you cards in the future. You could also provide them with stationery to reduce the need to go out and shop for cards. You may even offer to help address the cards before they’re sent.

3. Drop off essentials.
One of the last things someone wants to deal with when they’re grieving is having to run out for paper towels, dish soap, or miscellaneous grocery items. Ask them what they need from the store and drop off your delivery at their home. Plan on a no-contact drop-off for the least amount of interruption. It doesn’t hurt to also include a surprise care item or two—like a card and their favorite comfort snack.

4. Volunteer your time.
In the immediate aftermath of a loss, there can be several logistics to iron out. Some examples include coordinating with family members, writing an obituary, and picking up flowers or refreshments for a memorial service. Volunteer a window of time to help unburden your loved one from some of these tasks. Give them a specific time window you’re available (e.g. I’m free all day Sunday—what memorial planning tasks can I take off your hands?) so they don’t have to do much planning and they know how to best use your time.

5. Offer to do childcare or pet care.
Sometimes the most important and most challenging thing a grieving person has to do is take care of themselves. When children or pets are involved, self-care falls even lower in the priority list. Offer to provide childcare or pet care for a specific window of time (e.g. I can babysit/petsit for an afternoon this week—which day is better, Thursday or Wednesday?). Encourage your loved one to use the time to take care of themselves somehow—maybe a haircut or a nap or a walk. Bonus: if you’re sitting in their home, bring them their favorite coffee drink when you arrive and consider doing some cleaning/tidying during your stay so they can come home to a cleaner house.

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At the end of the day, your loved one will be grateful for your support. Sometimes just knowing that you’re available really is enough - but doing something to help them is even better.

What have you done for friends - or loved that friends did to support you?

Emptying a Loved One’s Home: What You Need to Know

Photo: Brian Wangenheim

GUEST POST

The following article was written by Kimberly Hayes. An author bio can be found at the end of this post.

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The emotional toll of cleaning out the home of a recently passed family member or friend can be heavy, yet it is an essential part of moving forward. This guide offers you a set of strategies designed to assist you in making informed decisions and reducing stress during this challenging phase of your life. In this article, you’ll discover essential steps to help you tackle this monumental task successfully.

A Guide to Informed Choices

Your first task is to sift through the belongings and determine what to keep, what to give away, and what to discard. As you work through each room, evaluate the emotional and utilitarian significance of each item.

Strategies for Stress Alleviation

Undoubtedly, sorting through a lifetime’s worth of possessions can be stressful. If making a decision about something has you feeling stressed, taking a deep breath may help you better evaluate your choices. By taking your time and employing calming techniques, you can make this process less arduous. Reach out to friends and family for moral support, or even consider hiring a professional organizer to assist you.

Preparing the House for Sale

Before selling your home, there are key steps you need to take to get it ready for the market including making any necessary updates and repairs. Prioritizing crucial home improvements can elevate the market value of the property. Simple actions like painting, addressing minor damages, and thorough cleaning can substantially enhance its attractiveness to potential buyers. Consequently, these measures boost the likelihood of securing a rapid sale at an optimal price.

The Advantages of Yard and Garage Sales

Hosting a yard or garage sale can be an effective way to get rid of items that you don’t plan to keep. Huge time savings can be realized by using free online tools to easily create posters to spread the word. Involve family and friends to assist in the organization and running of the sale, making the task less daunting.

Opting for an Estate Sale

If the property contains numerous valuable or large-scale items, an estate sale may be the way to go. Professional estate sale companies can handle all aspects, from pricing and advertising to the sale itself, ensuring that items are sold at fair market value. This route can be especially helpful for families unfamiliar with the worth of antiques or collectibles.

Consulting the Experts

Don’t overlook the importance of seeking advice from specialists. Estate liquidators, real estate brokers, and certified appraisers can offer invaluable insights into maximizing profits and ensuring legal compliance. Their expertise can save you both time and money, and provide peace of mind during an emotionally taxing period.

Going Digital with Key Records

It’s prudent to digitize essential documents like wills, financial records, and sentimental letters or photographs. Use dedicated software or secure cloud storage solutions to keep these digital copies safe and easily accessible. Not only does this make future access easier, but it also offers an extra layer of protection against accidental loss.

The Importance of a Strong Support Network

Never overlook the value of a strong network of friends and family during this challenging time. Whether it’s emotional encouragement or hands-on help with sorting and moving items, your support system can play an essential role. The emotional reassurance from loved ones is just as important as the tangible help they offer in organizing and decision-making. You can even find relief with online grief resources (like Grief Collective). Together, these elements of support can significantly lighten the emotional and logistical load of the task at hand.

Undertaking the organization and clearing of a deceased loved one’s residence is undeniably a massive emotional and logistical task. However, with thoughtful preparation, professional guidance, and a solid support network, you can accomplish this mission with resilience and grace. Prioritize your well-being, give yourself permission to take time off when necessary, and keep in mind what truly holds value as a tribute to your loved one’s legacy.

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Kimberly Hayes enjoys writing about health and wellness and created Public Health Alert to help keep the public informed about the latest developments in popular health issues and concerns.

Beautiful advice on caring for grieving friends

Photo: Allison Wopata

On a recent episode of Glennon Doyle’s podcast, We Can Do Hard Things, author and cancer survivor Kate Bowler joined to share her story and helped respond to listener questions about grief. The episode is cry-in-your-car beautiful. One listener question and Kate’s subsequent response really stood out.

The listener asked how to help someone going through an incomprehensible loss, especially when you’ve never experienced a loss of that magnitude. Kate’s answer is below.

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Kate Bowler: What a thoughtful question. How can I bubble wrap somebody whose pain is unimaginable to me and I’m so scared of doing it wrong?

I mean, I feel scared of doing it wrong all the time. And yet, I know it’s only because people were willing to embarrass themselves to try. That I got the community that I needed.

And I guess, maybe the first thing to always remember is that the person who is suffering doesn’t know what they need, because their needs are going to change all the time. That it is okay to offer things that they don’t need or want and be turned down. And then try again with something else, like inviting them to things that you worry will be painful for them. You don’t know and they don’t know either. It is always good. It is always good just to offer it, but offer it lightly.

It is always good to like, food and gift cards and just a thoughtful card that says, “I’m thinking about you.” But, it’s also good. Maybe just as the friend or as the community to have a moment where you’re like, “What’s my best thing?” Am I like the firefighter friend, who’s kind of good at rushing in at first and can boss and redirect traffic? Am I actually more of the loving presence person, where I’m actually better in the long game? Where I can send… One of my favorite kinds of people, is the person that doesn’t forget. Who writes down an anniversary and then puts it in the calendar a year from now and just says, “Write a thoughtful card that says, I’m thinking of you during this hard season, sending you so much love.” And maybe, also this cheesecake gift card.

I mean, everybody has their thing. And if your thing is presence, great. Presence. If your thing is funny texts, great. But like, nobody really expects you to know what to do. Because they have no idea what they’re doing and their grief will evolve over time. But just being the person who keeps showing up and taking cues.

And if you can’t help the main person, help the helpers. Help the caregivers in their life, those people don’t get nearly enough of what they need. So you don’t have to muscle your way into the very center. You can love that second tier or that third tier. And everybody is lifted by that kind of love.

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Kate Bowler is a writer and cancer surviver. She has written multiple books on grief, including Everything Happens for a Reason: And Other Lies I’ve Loved.

Tips for writing a condolence note

When someone experiences a loss, a good way to show support is to send a condolence note. It’s a relatively low effort and low cost way of showing someone that you care and acknowledging the loss they’ve experienced. But writing condolence notes isn’t something most of us do on a regular basis - maybe some are totally new to it - and it can be challenging to know what to say or where to begin. So, here are some tips to get you started. Feel free to comment for any I missed!

1. Don’t hesitate.

There’s a common misconception that sending a card will be intrusive or will just make the recipient sadder. I’ve even heard people say, “I don’t know her that well, would it be weird if I sent her a card?” The answer is no. When I lost my dad, I received notes from two high school classmates I barely knew - they were in other friend groups, and it had been a year since we’d graduated. I still remember those notes vividly, and I felt a huge sense of comfort from them. They were some of the only notes I received from people my age, including friends. It feels good, not weird, to be acknowledged when something big happens in your life; it’s weirder when people don’t acknowledge it. And trust me - any sadness the recipient feels isn’t brought on by your letter, it’s just there, a natural part of the grieving process. So don’t worry. And even if you do feel a little weird, just remember that the momentary discomfort you feel in writing will yield something that could be meaningful to the recipient for the rest of their life.

2. The format isn’t that important*.

A plain card is fine, as is a card from the condolence section of the drugstore (just make sure you pre-read any quotes or words on the front or interior before you buy just in case there are sentiments you don’t agree with). My go-to is usually a standard card with a minimally patterned front (nothing too bright or “fun”) and a blank interior, which allows enough space for several lines of text in my own words. In the digital age, e-cards and email are also good options. This also works as a fallback if you don’t have a way to get their mailing address (it’s best not to ask them directly for their email or mailing address - instead, check with others who know them; this will be the easiest way not to pile on additional tasks). My personal preference is always a tangible card because it lasts longer, but a well crafted email can be nice too.

* Except texts. I say, avoid texts.

3. Some clichés are okay.

If creative writing isn’t your forte, phrases like “I’m sorry for your loss” and “You’re in my thoughts” are totally acceptable. They’re short and sweet and convey your support. You can also say things like “I’m here for you” especially if you can provide them help in the future, whether it’s a coffee chat or an errand, etc (see more below). But I recommend avoiding phrases like “we’re never given more than we can handle” or “You’ll get through this” or even “You’re strong” because while the intent of these messages may be to lift up your bereaved friend, they dismiss the heaviness of the current moment. Saying this to someone who’s just experienced a loss can minimize their experience and feel more like you’re saying “get over it.” If you feel that these sentiments are important to share, save them for a later time when emotions aren’t as raw and they could be reassuring.

4. When in doubt, make it about them.

Sometimes it can be tempting, especially if you’ve experienced loss, to go beyond the typical condolence phrases and try to relate to the grieving person through your now-shared experience. You may want to offer a perspective or advice based on that, but tread lightly. Sometimes sharing about your own experience can make it more about you than them. The best way to determine which side of that line you might be on is to ask yourself what your intention is - if it's to say "Hey I've been through that too" or "I know how you feel", steer clear - those are about you. If you say, "Losing a sibling is like losing a part of you, and I'm deeply sorry that you're going through that." That provides a nod to your experience but doesn't under

If you don't have personal experience with loss that can be applied here, that's okay. Maybe you have a memory or anecdote you can include about the person they’ve lost. Some of the letters I cherished after my dad died were those with personal stories from friends and colleagues. They felt like little windows into his past, each revealing another side of him I didn't know. If you never met the person your friend has lost, you could say something like “I remember the story you told me about the time your mom took you out of school for ice cream. She must have been a very special person to you.”

5. Be specific.

When it comes to saying things like "I'm here for you" or "I'm around if you need anything" it's better to be more specific. How would you plan to be there for that person? Are you willing to run errands? Are you available to be a listener when they need someone to talk to? Including an example can be helpful and takes some of the burden off of them. When someone is in the midst of grieving, it can be an overwhelming time. Especially if the loss was someone close to them, there are often a lot of logistics to sort through. Offering to take a task or two off that list or finding tasks that can ease their everyday will help alleviate the overwhelm. Some examples include: dropping off a meal or snacks for them on their schedule (ideally a few weeks after the initial spike of meals others bring), helping with errands like dry-cleaning or (if you know them well enough) childcare or walking their dog, and offering to pick up coffee from their favorite spot and go for a walk on their schedule. And of course, offering these things is not required for a good condolence note. They require some commitment, so don't offer if you don't actually mean it.

There are plenty more ways to write a good condolence note. Comment below if you have other advice and tips!

A bit of grief advice for non-grieving partners

Originally posted on Dear Sugar, an advice column from Cheryl Strayed, at the time going by the pen name Sugar.

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Dear Sugar,

I’m a thirty-eight-year-old guy and engaged to be married this summer. My fiancé is thirty-five. I don’t need romantic advice. I’m writing to you about my fiancé’s mother, who passed away from cancer several years before I met her, when my fiancé was twenty-three.

She and her mother were very close. Her death was an awful blow to my fiancé at the time and it still hurts her deeply. It’s not like she can’t get out of bed or is struggling with depression. She has a great life. One of her friends calls her “joy on wheels” and that’s accurate, but I know it isn’t the whole story. Her mom’s death is always lurking. It comes up on a regular basis. When she cries or talks about how much she misses her mom, I’m supportive, but I usually feel insufficient. I don’t know what to say beyond lame things like, “I’m sorry” and “I can imagine how you’d feel” (though I can’t because my mom is still alive). She never had much of a relationship with her dad, who left the picture a long time ago, and her sister and her aren’t very close, so I can’t rely on someone in her family to be there for her. Sometimes I try to cheer her up or try to get her to forget about “the heavy stuff,” but that usually backfires and only makes her feel worse.

I don’t know how to handle this, Sugar. I feel lame in the face of her grief. I know you lost your mother too. What can you tell me? I want to be a better partner when it comes to handling grief.

Signed,
Bewildered

Dear Bewildered,

Several months after my mother died I found a glass jar of stones tucked in the far reaches of her bedroom closet. I was moving her things out of the house I’d thought of as home, clearing way for the woman with whom my stepfather had suddenly fallen in love. It was a devastating process—more brutal in its ruthless clarity than anything I’ve ever experienced or hope to again—but when I had that jar of rocks in my hands I felt a kind of elation I cannot describe in any other way except to say that in the cold clunk of its weight I felt ever so fleetingly as if I were holding my mother.

That jar of stones wasn’t just any jar of stones. They were rocks my brother and sister and I had given to our mom. Stones we’d found as kids on beaches and trails and the grassy patches on the edges of parking lots and pressed into her hands, our mother’s palms the receptacle for every last thing we thought worth saving.

I sat down on the bedroom floor and dumped them out, running my fingers over them as if they were the most sacred things on the earth. Most were smooth and black and smaller than a potato chip. Worry stones my mother had called them, the sort so pleasing against the palm she claimed they had the power to soothe the mind if you rubbed them right.

What do you do with the rocks you once gave to your dead mother? Where is their rightful place? To whom do they belong? To what are you obligated? Memory? Practicality? Reason? Faith? Do you put them back in the jar and take them with you across the wild and unkempt sorrow of your twenties or do you simply carry them outside and dump them in the yard?

I couldn’t know. Knowing was so far away. I could only touch the rocks, hoping to find my mother in them.

Not long before my mother died, I met a woman who’d been attacked by a man as she walked home from a party. By the time I met her she lived in a group home for those with brain injuries. Her own injury was the result of the attack, her head having hit the sidewalk so hard in the course of it that she’d never be the same again. She was incapable of living alone, incapable of so very much, and yet she remembered just enough of her former life as a painter and teacher that she was miserable in the group home and she desperately longed to return to her own house. She refused to accept the explanations given to her as to why she couldn’t. She had come to fervently believe that in order to be released she had only to recite the correct combination of numbers to her captors, her caretakers.

93480219072, she’d say as they fed her and bathed her and helped her get ready for bed. 6552091783. 4106847508. 05298562347. And on and on in a merciless spiral. But no matter what she said, she would never crack the code. There was no code. There was only the new fact of her life, changed irrevocably.

In the months after my mother died, I thought of this woman an inordinate amount and not only because I was distressed by her suffering. I thought of her because I understood her monumental desire and her groundless faith: I believed that I could crack a code too. That my own irrevocably changed life could be redeemed if only I could find the right combination of things. That in those objects my mother would be given back to me in some indefinable and figurative way that would make it okay for me to live the rest of my life without her.

And so I searched.

I didn’t find it in the half empty container of peppermint Tic Tacs that had been in the glove compartment of my mother’s car on the day she died or in the fringed moccasins that still stunk precisely of my mother’s size six feet a whole year later. I didn’t find it in her unfashionably large reading glasses or the gray porcelain horse that had sat on the shelf near her bed. I didn’t find it in her pen from the bank with the real hundred-dollar bill shredded up inside or in the butter dish with the white marble ball in its top or in any one of the shirts she’d sewn for herself or for me.

And I didn’t find it in those stones either, in spite of my hopes on that sad day. It wasn’t anywhere, in anything and it never would be.

“It will never be okay,” a friend who lost her mom in her teens said to me a couple years ago. “It will never be okay that our mothers are dead.”

At the time she said this to me she wasn’t yet really my friend. We’d chatted passingly at parties, but this was the first time we were alone together. She was fiftysomething and I was forty. Our moms had been dead for ages. We were both writers with kids of our own now. We had good relationships and fulfilling careers. And yet the unadorned truth of what she’d said—it will never be okay—entirely unzipped me.

It will never be okay, and yet there we were, the two of us more than okay, both of us happier and luckier than anyone has a right to be. You could describe either one of us as “joy on wheels,” though there isn’t one good thing that has happened to either of us that we haven’t experienced through the lens of our grief. I’m not talking about weeping and wailing every day (though sometimes we both did that). I’m talking about what goes on inside, the words unspoken, the shaky quake at the body’s core. There was no mother at our college graduations. There was no mother at our weddings. There was no mother when we sold our first books. There was no mother when our children were born. There was no mother, ever, at any turn for either one of us in our entire adult lives and there never will be.

The same is true for your fiancé, Bewildered. She is your joy on wheels whose every experience is informed and altered by the fact that she lost the most essential, elemental, primal and central person in her life too soon. I know this without knowing her. It will never be okay that she lost her mother. And the kindest most loving thing you can do for her is to bear witness to that, to muster the strength and courage and humility it takes to accept the enormous reality of its not okayness and be okay with it the same way she has to be. Get comfortable being the man who says oh honey, I’m so sorry for your loss over and over again.

That’s what the people who’ve consoled me the most deeply in my sorrow have done. They’ve spoken those words or something like them every time I needed to hear it; they’ve plainly acknowledged what is invisible to them, but so very real to me. I know saying those cliché and ordinary things makes you feel squirmy and lame. I feel that way too when I say such things to others who have lost someone they loved. We all do. It feels lame because we like to think we can solve things. It feels insufficient because there is nothing we can actually do to change what’s horribly true.

But compassion isn’t about solutions. It’s about giving all the love that you’ve got.

So give it, sweet pea. It’s clear that you’ve done it already. Your kind letter is proof. But I encourage you to stop being bewildered. Have the guts to feel lame. Say that you’re sorry for your lover’s loss about three thousand times over the coming years. Ask about her mother sometimes without her prompting. Console her before she asks to be consoled. Honor her mother on your wedding day and in other ways as occasions arise. Your mother-in-law is dead, but she lives like a shadow mother in the woman you love. Make a place for her in your life too.

That’s what Mr. Sugar has done for me. That’s what some of my friends and even acquaintances have done. It doesn’t make it okay, but it makes it better.

Next week it will be twenty years since my mother died. So long I squint every time the thought comes to me. So long that I’ve finally convinced myself there isn’t a code to crack. The search is over. The stones I once gave my mother have scattered, replaced by the stones my children give to me.

I keep the best ones in my pockets. Sometimes there is one so perfect I carry it around for weeks, my hand finding it and finding it, soothing itself along the black arc of it.

Yours,
Sugar

How to talk to someone who's grieving

Photo: @reo

If you’re the friend, family member, colleague, etc. of someone who’s grieving—welcome. You’re already taking a caring step in trying to learn more about how to understand your loved one. It can be vulnerable and even scary to approach someone in the throes of difficult emotions, but it will mean so much to them when you do. Here are some tips for navigating this time.

just try

The first step in talking to the grieving person in your life (let’s call them GPIYL from here on out) is to do it. That might seem a little obvious but it’s actually not uncommon for people to shy away from other people’s difficult emotions and just say nothing. Saying nothing is one of the worst things you can do, especially if the GPIYL is someone you’re close to. Just trying is a step that will mean so much to your loved one.

be Thoughtful, curious

If it’s the first time you’re talking to the GPIYL, a standard phrase you can say is “I’m so sorry for your loss.” You can also personalize it and say “I’m so sorry about your [insert person/pet they’ve lost].” You can also offer to them that they’re in your thoughts. Another question to ask is a simple “How are you doing?” Allow them to answer honestly, even though the answer is most likely not good.

If you’re writing it, a how-to on writing condolence notes is available here (there’s some advice overlap with this post).

Avoid hurtful phrases

There are a small handful of phrases that have come to be accepted in the grief community as more harmful than helpful, and it’s best to avoid them. Here are a few examples:

• I know how you feel.

• Everything happens for a reason

• At least they’re not in pain.

• You’re never given more than you can handle.

• It was just their time.

• You’ll be okay.

Also remember to be sensitive about religious beliefs. While religion may be comforting to you, if the GPIYL isn’t religious, this can be hurtful.

Tears are normal

There’s a common misconception that mentioning the loss will make the GPIYL upset because you’re “reminding them” of their loss. Two things here are true: 1) Their loss is already front-and-center in their mind, so you’re not reminding them of anything. 2) They may cry, and that’s a totally normal, healthy reaction for a grieving person to have. The best thing you can do for them in those moments is anticipate a tearful reaction and be prepared hold space for them (rather than shifting to a new topic or trying to maneuver out of your own discomfort) — consider bringing tissues. A hug may be appropriate for someone you’re close to. For colleagues, a hand on their arm or shoulder may be a better option. Consider your relationship and how the moment feels to determine the best path.

Follow their lead

The GPIYL may want to share a lot—or they may be more reserved. This is usually dependent on personality, how they’re feeling that day, and setting (for example, if they’re in the office or around a larger group, they may want to be more brief). Pay attention to whether they’re engaged—sharing more about their experience, telling stories—or whether they want to move on—changing the subject, making a joke, etc. Go where it seems they want to go.

Follow up

It’s a wonderful step to acknowledge the GPIYL’s loss early on. It’s even better to continue to acknowledge the loss over time because this is now a permanent part of their life. Recognizing anniversaries and critical milestones like birthdays, mother’s day, father’s day, etc. will go a long way. You can also just ask about the GPIYL’s lost loved one in the course of a normal day. Prompts like “Tell me a story about your dad” or “What was your son like?” can be a thoughtful way to acknowledge their loss as a huge part of their life—as well as honor the person they’ve lost.

Show, don’t tell

You may notice that the phrases “I’m here for you” or “Let me know if you need anything” aren’t in the suggested list. Those aren’t necessarily bad—they show your support—but it leaves the burden on the GPIYL to reach out. What’s * better * is to offer specific ways to help in the form of options. Some examples include:

• “I can bring you dinner next week. Do you prefer lasagna or tacos?”

• “I’ll watch your kids for an afternoon this weekend, which day is better—Saturday or Sunday?”

A note in closing: You might still fear that you’ll say the wrong thing. It’s okay. Do it anyway. People won’t remember what you say - they remember how you made them feel.