I think most people struggle with what to say. I was one of them. I am ashamed to say, I once avoided a friend who lost his child, just because I wasn't sure what to say. Of course that was before my daughter died.
I don't remember most of what was said to me. I was in shock and it is all a blur now. But I do remember some people held my hands and looked me in the eyes and didn't say anything, and that was enough. The only words that really hurt were "there are no words" because of course, there are always words. Especially just saying her name. The one word we really want to hear.
I am so grateful for the people who come up to me now and say something, anything, to acknowledge what happened. I don't care if it's awkward or fumbled, I just appreciate that they make the effort.
Some of the bravest are my daughter's peers, young people in their 20's who will come up to me, say my name, say my daughter's name, share something meaningful they remember about her. I am grateful for these young people who are not afraid to acknowledge death.
Tina, I appreciate you sharing your experience and perspective. I agree most people struggle with what to do or say. And I think we can all relate to being unable to meet the challenge of comforting a friend for one reason or another. Capacity is a real thing. We don't always have it. I can also understand why some people choose to avoid the topic altogether to avoid getting it wrong "or making things worse. " Many avoided me, the topic. I understood. But yes, those stories and memories shared always felt like such a gift. Hearing my daughter's name said lovingly aloud, always sounds like music. So I understand why those young people, your daughter's peers, feel so warm and encouraging to be around.
I think you encourage them too. They are witnessing your ability to be present for grief and your grace while carrying it.
I was just thanking my friend the other day, because ten years ago when my brother died, she called me on the phone, when everyone else texted me. I told her I don’t even remember what she said, but I remember how I felt because she made the effort to pick up the phone, despite the fact that she had no idea what to say. It means so much, and I’ll never forget that.
I'm so glad you had this kind of friend when you needed her. It great that you remembered to thank her and give her that feedback. It always helps us to know what kind of things help and why.❤️
Thank you for sharing this, it helped with things I’ve felt but couldn’t put into words.🖤 My most recent substack touches on this a bit, and reframes the dreaded “everything happens for a reason.”
❤️ “ What I wish people knew before they make an attempt to provide words of comfort is it isn’t their job to make grief make sense for you or make your sadness go away.”
I think most people struggle with what to say. I was one of them. I am ashamed to say, I once avoided a friend who lost his child, just because I wasn't sure what to say. Of course that was before my daughter died.
I don't remember most of what was said to me. I was in shock and it is all a blur now. But I do remember some people held my hands and looked me in the eyes and didn't say anything, and that was enough. The only words that really hurt were "there are no words" because of course, there are always words. Especially just saying her name. The one word we really want to hear.
I am so grateful for the people who come up to me now and say something, anything, to acknowledge what happened. I don't care if it's awkward or fumbled, I just appreciate that they make the effort.
Some of the bravest are my daughter's peers, young people in their 20's who will come up to me, say my name, say my daughter's name, share something meaningful they remember about her. I am grateful for these young people who are not afraid to acknowledge death.
Tina, I appreciate you sharing your experience and perspective. I agree most people struggle with what to do or say. And I think we can all relate to being unable to meet the challenge of comforting a friend for one reason or another. Capacity is a real thing. We don't always have it. I can also understand why some people choose to avoid the topic altogether to avoid getting it wrong "or making things worse. " Many avoided me, the topic. I understood. But yes, those stories and memories shared always felt like such a gift. Hearing my daughter's name said lovingly aloud, always sounds like music. So I understand why those young people, your daughter's peers, feel so warm and encouraging to be around.
I think you encourage them too. They are witnessing your ability to be present for grief and your grace while carrying it.
I was just thanking my friend the other day, because ten years ago when my brother died, she called me on the phone, when everyone else texted me. I told her I don’t even remember what she said, but I remember how I felt because she made the effort to pick up the phone, despite the fact that she had no idea what to say. It means so much, and I’ll never forget that.
I'm so glad you had this kind of friend when you needed her. It great that you remembered to thank her and give her that feedback. It always helps us to know what kind of things help and why.❤️
Thank you for sharing this, it helped with things I’ve felt but couldn’t put into words.🖤 My most recent substack touches on this a bit, and reframes the dreaded “everything happens for a reason.”
❤️ “ What I wish people knew before they make an attempt to provide words of comfort is it isn’t their job to make grief make sense for you or make your sadness go away.”