#3 Rethinking how we support others through grief

6 THINGS I wish people didn't do & what we can do instead

Aug 02, 2024

person in black long sleeve shirt holding babys feet — Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

When someone we know has suffered a loss, it’s natural to want to be there for them. But it’s hard to know how. What on earth is the ‘right’ thing to say or do?

I always thought being a good-enough person with decent social skills meant surely I would know how to support others through grief.

That was until I lost one of the most important people in my life and started questioning the social conventions we have come to accept as the norm when it comes to bereavement support.

In today’s newsletter, I reflect on how losing someone I loved made me rethink how to be there for others in a meaningful way in their deepest moment of need.

This doesn’t just apply to grieving a death, which is the focus of this piece. What I share here can be applied to supporting the people we care about through any number of life’s major challenges – a difficult diagnosis, job loss, relationship breakdown, end of a significant friendship, and more.

I’d love to hear from you! When you’re done reading, click the comment button and let me know:

What is one meaningful thing that someone said or did during a difficult time in your life?

In case you’re new here:

Hi, I’m Ruhie! A writer, doctor, mum & a daughter who lost her Dad to terminal illness.

Welcome to “From the Heart to Beyond”, where I am sharing my journey to live fully and make the most of the time we are given. I reflect on moments that touch my heart and the valuable lessons I gain from them in a series of letters to my Dad – things I would talk to him about if he were alive today. While these letters are deeply personal, they explore topics that are universal and timeless: love, hope, loss, healing, family, and everything in between.

I believe in the power of storytelling to connect people, provide support when we need it most, to teach, liberate, and inspire us, and to help us feel less alone in our experience. I truly hope that something in my words and story connects with you, your life, and your story.

Dear Dad,

I’ve been thinking a lot about a question that was asked recently in one of the Facebook groups I am part of. A fellow Medical Mum wanted some advice on how best to support her friend who had lost a child. I won’t go into details here but honestly, Dad, the story is heartbreaking. While our situations are different, I wanted to help. I wanted to share whatever insights I’d gained from losing you, because this experience completely transformed my views on the subject. I learnt the hard way what is and what is not helpful (at least for me personally) in those early stages of grief.

Supporting someone who’s lost a loved one is not easy. Nothing makes people more uncomfortable than being faced with death and those left in its wake. As a society, we’ve adopted some common strategies – certain cliches, euphemisms and actions – to which people often resort when supporting the bereaved. I’ve been there! I’ve said and done all the things we’re ‘supposed’ to say and do when someone dies.

It was only when I was on the receiving end of these old tropes for the first time in my life, after you died, that I realised how misguided they are. That, although well-intentioned, many of them actually aren’t all that comforting to the person grieving.

Don’t get me wrong – there were so many people who were incredibly supportive, and from them I learnt what really works. I don’t mean to criticise or judge the things I personally found unhelpful. Everyone was trying their best, motivated by good intentions, coming from a place of genuine love and care.

But this experience made me question the social conventions we have come to accept as the norm when it comes supporting others through grief. It gave me food for thought on what I can improve on the next time I find myself in the difficult but incredibly humbling position of supporting someone at a time they need it most.

1. DON’T: Advise them to “be strong”

“Don’t cry. Be strong!”

This throwaway line quickly became my number one pet peeve after you died.

And yet, I still find myself wanting to say it to others because it sounds useful and encouraging. But in my experience, it was neither – in fact, it was deeply invalidating. It is okay, dare I say even healthy, to express your feelings.

I realised that these pleas to stop crying and stay strong are actually a marker of people’s own discomfort at being faced with raw and honest emotions. It is a reflection of our reticence as a society to confront and talk about difficult topics like death and grief.

Crying for someone you loved and lost is NOT a sign of weakness. It is a sign of having loved deeply.

DO: Let them know it’s okay to cry, and see their tears as proof of emotional strength, not fragility – a testament to the depth of their relationship with the person they lost.

2. DON’T: Say “Reach out if you need anything!”

This is another one of those phrases that gets tossed around a lot when someone dies, because it sounds like the right thing to say. I know for a fact that I’ve said it many times before, and to be honest probably even after you died. But personally when I am in the depths of grief, there is no way I’m going to actively reach out to people for support. If someone asks me how I’m feeling, that’s a different story – I’m an open book. But I certainly wasn’t going to disturb someone in the middle of their busy, regular day to say I’m sad because my Dad died. What a downer!

I don’t actually believe people would have thought I was being needy or a downer if I had reached out. If they had the kindness to put the offer on the table in the first place, I know they would have been there for me — no judgement, no questions asked. When we tell someone who’s grieving to reach out to us when they need it, it’s because we don’t want to be overbearing. So we hold back and leave the ball in their court. But, in my experience, this puts the expectation of seeking support on the person dealing with the loss, which they are unlikely to do.

DO: Take the initiative to reach out yourself.
I really appreciate the thoughtfulness of those who took the time and effort to contact me themselves and ask how I was doing, rather than putting the responsibility of seeking support on me.

person wearing silver-colored ring — Photo by Arleen wiese on Unsplash

3. DON’T: Underestimate the power of providing practical help

The last thing on your mind when you lose someone you love is attending to mundane day-to-day tasks. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping. And yet, these things need to get done. How do you muster up the energy or care factor to stock the pantry, make dinner, tidy up, or wash the growing mountain of dirty clothes when your world has just shattered?

I’m sure it doesn’t surprise you at all to hear that there was no shortage of people ready and eager to lend a helping hand after you died. We are so fortunate to be a part of a big extended family and a close-knit local Indian community here in Sydney – a generous and giving group of people who had so much love and respect for you. Before it even occurred to us to ask, they rallied around us in our time of need. My aunties and the ladies in the wider community created a roster to provide dinner for the four of us in the early weeks. The uncles brought over disposables and helped with recycling the garbage so we didn’t have to deal with the pressure of dirty dishes piling up. This is just one of many ways the people around us showed their foresight and kindness. It’s something we still think about to this day and for which we feel immensely grateful.

You don’t have to be part of their family or inner circle to offer practical support. Three years ago, a friend from my first mothers’ group suffered a devastating miscarriage halfway through her second pregnancy. By then, we weren’t seeing each other as much as we used to when our kids were first born. The occasional play date, birthday party or mums night out. Most of us were back to work and busy with our own lives. We weren’t close enough to her to provide the kind of intimate support you might expect from family and friends. Still, we felt for her and what she was going through. Someone suggested we chip in as a group to get her a Dinner Ladies voucher, a company that prepares and delivers nourishing, ready-to-heat meals to your home. It was a small gesture, but it was our way of showing we were thinking about her and hopefully something she found useful during a really difficult time.

DO: Be proactive in offering practical help.
It takes some of the mental load off their plate, so they can devote that precious time and energy to coping with their loss and healing.

4. DON’T: Tell them to “stay busy!” or remind them of their other responsibilities

Why do we feel compelled to advise people going through grief, or a hard time in general, to “keep busy”? I can’t tell you the number of times I was told to “just focus on Az” who was six months old when you died, or it was suggested I return to work early from maternity leave to give me something to do.

I get it – it comes from a good place. We think if someone is sufficiently distracted, they won’t feel as sad.

But it doesn’t work like that. When you lose someone you love, there is no responsibility, duty or obligation that can outweigh the depth of their absence. And implying otherwise just burdens the bereaved with unfair guilt and shame.

To be perfectly honest, I barely remember what Az did the first two weeks after you died. I was paralysed by grief, suspended in a trance-like state, going through the motions but barely registering what was happening around me. I didn’t need people reminding me that a baby needs their mother. I was well aware and already felt guilty enough without people’s comments, no matter how well-intentioned. Aviv instinctively took over the bulk of the parenting. Az was fed, burped, changed, bathed, rested, content. He has a dad, and a bloody good one too who stepped up when it was needed. I was doing the best I could in the worst time of my life, and that was enough.

As for going back to work early, that wasn’t in anyone’s best interests. It certainly wasn’t going to take my mind off the pain of losing you. And my head wasn’t in a place where I could give one hundred percent to my patients yet. When I returned to work some months later, in my own time, I was ready.

Staying busy isn’t bad advice. It’s just not a long-term solution. It runs the risk of those left in the wake of death being stuck on an endless hamster wheel, jumping from distraction to distraction to save themselves from the overwhelming sense of loss. At some point, we have to face the truth. As much as it hurts, we have to learn to face the world without the person who’s passed.

DO: Allow them space to process their grief, and let them figure out all the other responsibilities at their own pace.

selective focus photography of white pillar canle — Photo by Ioann-Mark Kuznietsov on Unsplash

5. DON’T: Assume they no longer need support when life gets busy

In the first couple of weeks, we were surrounded by people. Our home was like a revolving door of family, friends and loved ones around the clock. It might sound like a lot, and I guess it was, but honestly the company was comforting. It offered some reprieve from our heartbreak, and helped us feel less alone.

But gradually, as is the way with these things, the visits started tapering off, the calls stopped, the messages became increasingly sporadic. It’s understandable — people have to carry on with their lives because time stops for no one, a saying you loved to quote back in the day. Meanwhile, the bereaved are at a standstill, neither able to nor knowing how to move on. Our lives remained at a crossroads.

Yet, there were some who continued to make an effort. In the midst of their busy lives, they found the time and space to reach out. A call, a visit, suggesting we meet up for coffee, or just sending a quick text. It may not sound like much, but these things meant a lot to me and I hope these people know how special they are. How their effort cut through the darkness and isolation of the hardest time in someone else’s life, reminding them they are loved and that there is kindness in the world.

I know firsthand, deep down to my core, how important it is to keep checking in. And yet, when I had the opportunity to be there for someone who had lost her father a few years ago, I don’t think I stepped up in the way I should have. I understood on a cellular level what she was going through. So I messaged a lot early on, wanting her to know I was there for her, a kindred spirit. We shared pictures and stories, and many tears. We arranged to meet up a few times because it’s always nicer to connect face-to-face. But every time, there was some reason it fell through. I got sick, then she had exams. Az got Covid, then Sydney went into lockdown again. Thunderstorms one day meant we couldn’t travel to see each other, then Riz got sick. The weeks passed and turned into months. Life got in the way, but really, I knew better and I should have done better. To this day, one of my biggest regrets is that I didn’t try harder to see her or continue to keep in touch. Writing this now, even three years on, brings tears to my eyes. I wish I had shown up for her the way she – the way anyone mourning a loved one – needs and deserves. But I am human and I’m trying to give myself grace. What I can do is learn from my mistakes and try to do better next time.

DO: Continue to check in regularly.
I know our lives are busy and we have our own things to deal with. But I can assure you that any effort to keep in touch with the person grieving, even if it may seem small and insignificant to you, is actually so meaningful to them. It lets them know you’re thinking about them, that you understand the magnitude of what they are going through, and that you still hold them in your heart.

6. DON’T: Avoid hard conversations

This one is deeply personal and might not be for everyone. Some people don’t like to talk openly about their feelings, preferring to deal with things internally on their own. Others might find it too painful to talk about their loved one so soon after their death. Both are understandable, and either way, their need for space should be respected.

But for many people, like me, one of the ways we process our grief is verbally. I wanted to talk about you. I needed to. I would actively seek out opportunities to bring you up in conversation. It brought me comfort and even a little bit of joy to share stories and hear stories from others who knew you. It let me hold onto you a little longer.

I think this might be my number one tip for supporting someone through grief. Don’t shy away from tough conversations. Don’t change the subject to something lighter the moment they start getting emotional. You might worry that by bringing it up, you’ll put thoughts in their head or make them sad. But trust me, their loved one is never far from their mind. They’re already sad, but by letting them know you’re comfortable to talk about what they’re going through, maybe they won’t feel as alone in their sadness.

DO: Allow them space to talk about how they’re feeling and the person they lost if they wish.
Ask insightful questions – not just generic ones like “How are you?” that are impossible to answer. See if you can dig a little deeper. My cousin once asked “What do you miss most about your Dad?” A friend asked “What was the hardest part about the last few years?” These kinds of questions spark a conversation.
Share stories with them.
And above all, listen thoughtfully.

Supporting someone who has lost a loved one is not easy. And yet, grief is universal. We are all going to find ourselves at some point on both the giving and receiving ends of bereavement support. I’ll never forget the love and care we received from those around us after you died.

Dad, you should have seen the outpouring of solidarity and care on this Facebook post! It truly reaffirmed my belief in the goodness of humanity. No one likes to see another person suffer, and when we do, we have this intrinsic human need to help. Losing you made me appreciate how to be there for someone in their deepest moment of need in a way that is meaningful, personal and sincere.

Miss you every day, Dad. Love you always. Until next time 💌

Ruhie

Thanks so much for being here! Your support means the world to me.

I’d love to hear from you!

What is one meaningful thing that someone said or did during a difficult time in your life?

Grieve Fully, Live Fully

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