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Recently I found myself sitting next to someone I didn’t know well on the first anniversary of her son’s death. What to say?
“I know this is a difficult day,” I offered.
She looked at me, startled then said, “Thank you for saying that. No one has mentioned him.”
“Tell me about him,” I said.
What followed was a memorable conversation, not only for what I learned about her remarkable son, but also for the lessons she offered about how well-intended attempts to help can often miss the mark.
In researching my upcoming book on how to boost resilience during difficult times, I interviewed many who were devastated by loss. I came away with important insights about how to best connect with those who are grieving, including this one: acknowledging someone’s pain bolsters connection, serving as a balm, and talking about their loved one brings comfort, not distress.
Suffering is inevitable for all of us; so too is grief. A parable captures this truth: a young mother, inconsolable after her child’s death, begs the Buddha to restore her child to life. He agrees on the condition that she collect a single mustard seed from any family in her village untouched by death. The mother returns empty-handed. Every household had experienced loss. But her sorrow is softened by the acceptance that death is inescapable, and it’s transformed into compassion by her newfound understanding that we are all bound together by the universality of grief.
This is why learning to grieve is as fundamental a life skill as learning to tie your shoes and program the remote control. It is important to learn how to suffer well. Central to this life skill is learning how to best support those in your community who are grieving.
Studies have confirmed the experiences of those I interviewed: for those grieving, community is not a luxury; it’s a necessary lifeline. It’s been found that bereaved individuals who maintained strong social connections were far more resilient after loss than those who avoided engagement. The offer of friendship and practical support, along with the sharing of memories, consistently predicts healthier long-term adjustment, while isolation is linked to prolonged distress. It’s proof that healing happens not in retreat, but in community. And we each can play a meaningful role in the healing of others.
Here are some simple yet meaningful ways to reach out in comfort and friendship when someone you know is going through a difficult time:
Invite stories and memories. Address, don’t avoid, an uncomfortable moment. Say, “This is a difficult day. Tell me about (name).” Invite stories, and ask, “What was she like, “What is one of your favorite memories?” Contrary to what many fear, mentioning the loss or saying the loved one’s name rarely deepens pain — it most often brings relief, affirming that both the person and the grief are remembered. Allowing for the sharing of stories can soften sorrow, keeping love present and offering real comfort. It tells the grieving acquaintance their loved one is remembered and that their grief is not invisible.
Importantly, make note of the anniversary and reach out by phone, text, or card to honor the day. Some families transform the painful date of death into a ritual of celebration. Mother and daughter, Amber and Leela Salisbury, published the book Papa Jay’s Starday to remember and honor their father and grandfather on the date Papa Jay went home to the stars. Celebrating the anniversary is one loving tradition that may bring joy.
Offer your presence. Sit or walk together and acknowledge it’s fine to be together in silence. If you don’t live close, call and say, “We don’t have to talk. Let’s just be here together quietly on the call.” Being present with or without words is often the greatest gift we can offer.
Don’t ask what you can do — just do. The most meaningful help evolves from our natural strengths. If you’re a cook, drop off dinner. If you’re organized, coordinate rides for children or ask what you can pick up from the grocery store. If you’re handy, fix something that’s broken or show up and begin shoveling snow.
Once during a difficult time in my life, a girlfriend sat and patiently listened to me, while her husband refinished a table I loved. Her gift was presence; his was woodworking. I often send poetry to offer comfort. Show your care by leaning into your strengths.
Offer a change of scenery. Suggest an activity to get the person out of the house. Ask if they want to go for a walk, shopping, lunch, or coffee. A change of scenery can break through a cocoon of isolation and prompt an awakening to a new stage of life. If they decline, give them time and ask again.
Bring your compassion to the workplace. If you lead a team or own a business, offer time off if you can. Your generosity will be appreciated. But don’t be surprised if they decline, because many people will prefer the company of their colleagues to being alone. For some, work offers structure, community, and a sense of normalcy when life feels unmoored. If you work alongside someone who is grieving, give them space to be less than perfect for a while and to share their feelings when they’re ready.
Continue to extend invitations to a widow or widower. If the loss is a spouse, continue extending invitations to couples’ gatherings. It’s important not to unintentionally ostracize the remaining partner from events. Many shared with me that when they lost a spouse, they also lost their circle of couple friends. Keep extending invitations to dinners and social occasions. Even if they decline at first, the invitations themselves communicate love and belonging, and in time, many will be ready to accept your gracious invitation.
Accept that grief doesn’t follow a schedule. Grief has no expiration date. While some expect a return to normal within weeks or months, the process often unfolds over years. The loneliest moments usually come after the initial wave of support, when the casseroles stop arriving and the cards stop coming. Staying connected and acknowledging the loss long after most have moved on reminds those who are grieving that they are not carrying their sorrow alone. Ongoing presence, not an immediate quick burst of support, is what brings the deepest comfort.
What not to do
Those in grief have shared with me things that most miss the mark. Resist platitudes or trying to “fix” their sorrow. Avoid comments like, “It was meant to be,” “You’ll get over this in time,” or “Let’s talk about something happier so you won’t be sad.” These well-intended attempts to avoid the pain can feel dismissive, as though their grief is something to move past rather than honor. And don’t erase the person who was lost by avoiding their name or brushing the subject aside if memories arise. Silence about the loss can deepen loneliness. Grief doesn’t heal in avoidance. Healing comes through being present and willing to sit with what hurts.
In summary
Being embraced by community during the aftermath of loss is the secret sauce of grieving well. It’s captured beautifully in these lines from the poem What I Learned from my Mother by Julia Kasdorff.
“Like a doctor, I learned to create
from another’s suffering my own usefulness, and once
you know how to do this, you can never refuse.
To every house you enter, you must offer
healing: a chocolate cake you baked yourself,
the blessing of your voice, your chaste touch.”
Ultimately, the work of grief is not to erase the loss but to live with what cannot be fixed, to feel the sorrow, and, in time, to move forward on our life path. I often liken this process to accepting there’s a massive hole in our lives. While it can never be filled, we can plant flowers along the edge.
