What do you say when someone dies? How do you console a friend?
It’s a tough question. And the reason it’s a tough question is — there’s not much you can say to a person who’s lost a dear one.
Nothing can make the grief go away. Nothing can bring the lost person back to the land of the living.
In short, there is not much you can say or do when someone dies, except to be there for your friend.
But being there is huge. I’ve found that out in the past nine months.
What Do You Say?
A few weeks after Jon died I ran into a friend I hadn’t seen in months. I’ll call her Becky, to protect the guilt-ridden.
“Barbara,” she said. “I’ve had a condolence card on my desk for weeks. But I didn’t know what to write on it, so it’s still sitting there.”
Of course she didn’t know what to write on it. What was there to say? What do you say when someone dies?
I wanted to blurt out, “Send the card anyway! It will mean a lot to me, even if it’s just a store-bought sympathy card with hearts and flowers and your name on it.”
Finding that card in my mailbox would be a boon. It would reassure me that — although I don’t have Jon anymore, I still have my friend Becky.
What I needed — and still need — from Becky and others is simple –:
- Acknowledgment of my — our mutual — loss. Those simple time-worn words, “I’m sorry for your loss,” work wonders. So does something like, “I heard about Jon. I’m so sorry.” That’s it. There’s not much else you can say about the mysterious, implacable fact of death. Except to tame it a little by naming it.
- Stories about Jon. I love to hear little anecdotes that bring back the distinctive sweetness that was Jon Newhall. Other people’s stories help me to remember his ways, the little quirks and habits I’m afraid I’ll forget.
- Praise for Jon. Go ahead, pour it on! Some of my favorites: “Big-hearted, curious, iconoclastic and funny Jon,” wrote my niece from Brooklyn. And, “Jon’s brilliance and kindness continue to nourish me,” wrote our friend Ginger from Texas. (Me too, Ginger.)
- Being there. Some of our friends have managed to be there in the flesh as well as in spirit. A few weeks after Jon died, one of his cousins asked if she could come by with lunch. I said yes — I needed company and I needed lunch. And this particular Newhall cousin is great company. We laughed a lot, and for an afternoon I was back in the land of the living.
The land of the living — it’s a nice place. I hope to visit it now and then as time goes by.
More on consoling the grief-stricken at “When Someone Dies, Send Flowers.” Remembering Jon — here’s a story with lots of pictures of Jon (sporting lots of covid hair) a year ago this month: “How to Hang a Quilt. We Did It Our Way.”
If you’d like to read more about what to say when someone dies, this website has some thoughtful suggestions.
Barbara, you are sharing important things non-grievers need to hear. You also reminded me of when I was newly widowed I loved to hear stories about Richard – it kept him alive to me – to learn something I didn’t already know. Twenty-six years later, I still enjoy stories about him. People often think we don’t want to talk about our lost love, when, in fact, that’s exactly what we do want to talk about. It’s helpful to give people permission to tell you stories even if they make you cry – that’s healthy grieving.
Linda Foust mentioned ASKing for help. She is so right. We think we want to be independent. However, there are times when we really need to ask for help (like taking us to the auto shop to have car serviced etc.) People want to help us but don’t know what we want or need. I found it helpful when I realized that asking someone for help is “Giving them the gift of being able to give.”
Keep writing, you are likely helping more people than you know.
Merrilee Harter Mitchell
Thank you, Merrilee. Thanks in particular for the encouragement to ask for help. That can be so hard to do!
I just want to say that I miss Jon’s friendship every day.. Such a happy guy! I truly wish there was more we could do about the pain of your loss.
Reality bites. This is the bumpy road that folks have had to deal with since our creation… Every living thing has to grapple with this moment of great loss… Ironically, the better it was, the more you lose.
So true. The better it was the bigger the loss.
As usual, what you said is simple, but the whole truth.
Thank you, Sharie!
So true. Just knowing a friend wishes to comfort you is good for the soul.
Yes. That simple fact has been brought home to me in a big way in recent months.
Love this. I just had. an unexpectedly robust FB discussion after I posted the opinion that “thoughts and prayers” and “condolences to the family” seem rote and automatic—and therefore not very meaningful— (on a FB page that reports deaths among my high school alum)., (I have the same feeling about chanting, ”Thank you for your service” to every random soldier one encounters.).I think people can do better than that., but some responders thought platitudes are fine, that it’s better to say something trite than nothing at all. I am semi-convinced, but I much prefer your other suggestions.
BTW, after my husband died when my son was 20 months old, I wrote a magazine article about what NOT to say to the widow. Believe it or not, a supposed doctor told me not to worry about my son because “your husband gave him everything he needs in his first year of life”! The first words out of someone else’s mouth were, “Can I buy his car?” Another guy said, “I’m going to be a male presence in your son’s life, you can count on that,” and I never heard from him again. My husband and I were separating off and on when he died; he died in a fancy rental house that the builder had tried in vain to sell for a long time. When I called with the news of my husband’s death there, that owner said, “Oh shit, now we’ll never sell the house.” Of course, these were all true but unusual comments from a thoughtless minority of idiots I didn’t know..
Truly caring people not only said something, they showed up, usually without asking because they seemed to know what I needed. Even when they didn’t know, they showed up in various ways. They sat with me, took care of my kid, cooked, listened, reminisced, and yes, even made me laugh.. And amazingly, this continued for a long long time. Months after the deluge of casseroles had been eaten, people were still showing up in helpful ways.
My point is, a platitude is better than nothing, but if you can do something else—even if you don’t know what—offer or just do something..
And a word to the survivor—ASK for what you need: People will thank you for letting them. know of a way to feel useful and show compassion and offer something more than a “condolence.”
IMHO
Thank you, Linda. So far I have not been the recipient of any real clunkers! I notice that even the people who answered the phone as I navigated the red tape that followed Jon’s death were always careful to say some thing like, “I’m sorry for your loss” — then move on to take care of the business at hand. That simple acknowledgment helped a lot. I didn’t need — or want — to hear anything more than those few words But somehow the acknowledgement was really helpful.
This was one of the most useful posts on how to help others through grief that I have ever read. Thank you for giving us this advice and your perspective.
Lindsey, I wrote this because before Jon died I had no idea what to say or do when a friend had such a loss. Good to know that it’s useful to you!