What to Say to a Grieving Friend

I’ve forgiven myself for not knowing how to respond — we don’t know what we don’t know

I received a text yesterday from a dear friend asking for advice. It’s not the first time it’s happened. The text begins with a simple, “Hi, Sandra. I hope you and the boys are well,” before moving into, “I’m sorry for asking, but I need your help. My [insert friend’s husband, brother-in-law’s sister, neighbor’s daughter, etc.] died and I feel lost. I don’t know what to say or do. Can you help?”

Since my husband passed away eight years ago, I became the go-to girl for guidance on how to help or comfort a grieving friend.

Death is a topic not typically discussed at book club or on the sidelines of soccer games. Knowing that people struggle when trying to comfort someone who is grieving unless they have experienced their own grief, I am always happy to help.

Before my husband died, I didn’t know what to say either. I’d simply offer, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

I look back and wonder what I was thinking. Was that all I could muster for this person whose world has just fallen apart? Whose life as they know it is over? Who has to grieve a love for the rest of their life?

I’ve forgiven myself for not knowing how to respond. We don’t know what we don’t know.

I now know what to say, and I’m always happy to share with others exactly what I wanted my friends and family to say to me when I was swallowed by my grief.

I quickly texted back, “Write this.”

I believe you.

I believe you when you say you don’t want to go. You don’t want to stay.

You can’t eat. You can’t sleep.

You can’t focus. You can’t function.

I will ask you what I can do for you to help you make sense of your new life.

I believe you when you tell me you think you are going crazy. I will quietly tell you that you are not.

I will hold your hand. I will give you a hug and remind you that you are grieving.

I believe you when you tell me it is too hard to do that holiday. Go to that funeral. Celebrate at that wedding. Travel to those same places.

I won’t expect you to go.

I will not be offended if you don’t go. My heart will instead hurt for you and your loss.

I believe you when you tell me you can’t taste your food. You don’t see color. You want to avoid noise because it hurts your head.

I will listen and hope you will be able to feel whole again.

I pray you will learn how to live with the trauma you carry.

I believe you when you tell me your heart hurts. It hurts so bad — like it is being ripped out of your chest.

I will believe you a day after. A month after. A year after. Eight years after. Eighty years after.

I will never dismiss your pain.

I will do my best to comfort you.

I believe you when you tell me you had a good day. I believe you when you tell me you had a bad day.

I will never tell you how to feel.

I will love and listen to you.

I believe you.

I believe in you.

I will always believe.

Each time I immediately get a call back. Through tears, my friends admit they had no idea how hard it must be. For me. For my boys. For their friends and family who have lost someone they love. They feel guilty for not being there for us. For them.

I tell them they didn’t know and that they need to let go of the guilt. They thank me for opening their eyes and hearts to the extreme loss their friend or family member must be feeling. They now feel it and know that grief and loss are bigger than us all.

Grief is not something that disappears after a year. They tell me they will do their best to always give love, support, and understanding to those who are grieving.

With tears in my eyes, I say, “I believe you, too.”

Sandra Began survived the suicide of her husband when she was forty and her sons were nine and twelve, transforming her from a successful holiday designer into a writer, speaker, and grief specialist. She now works one-on-one with suicide widows helping them navigate life after loss. She is a contributing writer to OptionB, Grown & Flown, and Love What Matters. She is the founder of The Widow Project and shares her real, honest, and hope-filled insights into life as a widow raising two boys on her Instagram page @thewidowproject.

Sandra’s online course “The 5 Healing Habits” will launch in July 2021.

This essay is part of our Moms Don’t Have Time to Grieve column.