80| Self Care in Grief - Supporting Both You & Grieving Loved Ones

Have you ever sat next to someone who just lost their husband, wife, or partner and felt so helpless that you just didn't say anything at all? Maybe the thing you're most afraid to say wrong is actually less important than simply sitting with them, allowing the quiet and presence to help with the healing. Let’s chat about how we can support those grieving, including how to support ourselves in times of need. 

Transcript

Have you ever sat next to someone who just lost their husband, wife, or partner and felt so helpless that you just didn't say anything at all? Maybe the thing you're most afraid to say wrong is actually less important than simply sitting with them, allowing the quiet and presence to help with the healing. Let’s chat about how we can support those grieving, including how to support ourselves in times of need. This podcast is always 20 minutes or less so you don’t have to feel overwhelmed or overhaul everything in your life, but just make small, simple changes to create more calm and peace. To get to your better life, make small changes and begin to live it!

Hey friends, welcome back or hello new friends. Today we’re talking about something that can be feel really uncomfortable when you’re in it and that is how you talk to someone who is grieving the loss of a husband, wife, or any other type of partner in life. Those times when you felt completely helpless because you just didn't know what to say? Have you ever picked up your phone to text them and then put it back down because every sentence you typed felt too small, feeling even condescending for what they were going through? I reached out to ask what you wanted to hear about and a listener named Lorraine asked that I talk about this exact topic so here we go.

So today we’re talking about how to show up for a friend who has experienced the loss of a partner, a family member, or someone else close to them. This is one of those topics that touches nearly all of us at some point, because loss is part of being human, and loving people means that eventually we grieve them or we grieve alongside someone who is grieving. And yet, even though grief is universal, so many of us freeze when someone we love is drowning in it. We want so badly to fix it, to say the perfect thing, to somehow make the pain feel bearable. But the truth is that we need to realize and that is that there really is nothing you can say that will take away someone's grief, and that’s not a failure on your part. That’s simply the nature of loss. Your not there to try to fix things, you just need to be there to be present for it.

I think so many of us avoid reaching out to grieving friends because we're terrified of saying the wrong thing. We worry we'll bring up the loss and make them cry, as if they weren't already carrying that grief with them every single moment, whether we mention it or not they’re probably always on the edge of crying. We worry our words will sound hollow. But then we also worry that silence will feel awkward. So instead, some of us disappear for a while, waiting until we know what to say. But silence and distance from the people who love them is often more painful for a grieving person than any imperfect words could ever be.

Let's talk about why this matters so much, because there's real research behind it. A study published by researchers at Arizona State University looked specifically at what bereaved people found genuinely helpful after a significant loss. What they found was that people didn't rate advice or problem solving as the most valuable form of support. What mattered most was emotional support. Reaching out, sitting with someone's pain instead of trying to talk them out of it. Allowing them to express whatever they were feeling without rushing to correct it or quiet it. The researchers described this as simply being willing to witness someone's grief rather than trying to manage it. There's also a broader body of research on bereavement and social support with similar thoughts. Other studies on grief consistently show that people who feel supported after a loss experience less depression and cope more effectively over time, and one of the clearest patterns researchers keep finding is that presence matters more than perfect words. It's not the eloquence of what we say, it's the willingness to stay close when things are hard and uncomfortable, when there's no easy and clean way around things. I feel like this research validates something so many of us already sense in our gut, which is that showing up matters more than performing the right script. You don't need a speech, you need presence.

So let's talk about what that actually looks like, because I know sometimes it helps to have something as examples when your heart wants to help but your mind is blank. The first thing I want to offer you today is a simple question to say to someone who is grieving. What can I do to make things easier for you today? Not this week, not in general, but today. Grief is not one long continuous wave, it moves and shifts hour by hour, sometimes minute by minute. Someone might need help picking up their kids from school on Tuesday and just need someone to sit with them in silence on Wednesday. Asking specifically about today gives your friend permission to tell you exactly what they need in that moment, instead of feeling pressured to say everything is fine because they don't want to be a burden. This is such a small shift in language, but it changes everything. Instead of saying let me know if you need anything, which of course puts the entire emotional labor of asking back on the person who is already exhausted from grieving, so instead you're offering something specific and immediate. So the next time you're with a grieving friend, or even before you see them, try texting or asking them this exact question. What can I do to make things easier for you today? Let them answer honestly, and then actually follow through on whatever they say, even if it's something so small like bringing coffee or just sitting on the couch with them while they watch something mindless on television.

I want to pause here for a moment and ask you to think back to a time in your own life when you were going through something painful, whether it was a loss, a breakup, a diagnosis, or any other kind of hard time. What did you actually need from the people around you in that moment? Was it advice, was it someone telling you it would all work out when no one including you knew that? Or was it simply someone staying close, not needing you to be okay yet and not expecting you to? I'd guess for most of us, it was the second thought. It also helps to know what tends to generally not land well, not so you can obsess over saying the wrong thing, but so you can release some of that fear. Phrases like they're in a better place, everything happens for a reason, or at least they lived a long life, those often come from a genuine desire to comfort, but they can inadvertently minimize what that person is feeling in this moment. Now don’t worry that you need to overthink and avoid ever saying anything imperfect. You just need to remember that your presence matters far more than your phrasing. If something slips out that doesn't land quite right, you can simply follow it with I'm sorry, that probably wasn't helpful, I'm still here, and offer to keep listening. Grief support again isn't about getting every word right, it's more about staying in the room.

Now here's another part that trips up so many of us. You do not need to fill the silence. In fact, one of the most loving things you can do is resist the urge to fill it. We live in a culture that treats silence like a problem to be solved. When a conversation goes quiet, most of us instinctively rush in with something, anything, to break the tension. But when you're sitting with someone who has lost the person they built their life around, or the parent who raised them, or the friend who knew every version of who they've been, silence isn't a problem. Silence is often exactly where healing happens. It gives your friend room to feel whatever they're feeling without having to pretend they’re ok just for your comfort.

Think about it this way. When you rush to fill a quiet moment with reassurance, even well meaning reassurance like they're in a better place now or everything happens for a reason, you're often doing it to soothe your own discomfort with the silence, not because your friend actually needs to hear it. And sometimes those phrases, even though they come from a place of love, can land in a way that feels dismissive of the very real pain someone is in. There is no perfect sentence that will make someone's loss feel okay. So instead of searching for one, give yourself permission to simply sit there. Hold their hand or put your arm around them if that feels right. Or just be nearby, doing nothing, saying nothing, simply being a steady presence in the room while they process whatever they need to process.

This might feel uncomfortable at first, especially if you're someone who likes to help by doing and fixing. Sitting in silence can feel like you're not doing enough. But your presence alone is doing something. You are communicating, without a single word, that you are not going anywhere. That their pain doesn't scare you away. That they don't have to manage your emotions on top of their own. 

Here's a small practice you can try this week, whether or not you have a grieving friend right now, because honestly, we all will at some point, either as the one grieving or the one showing up. The next time someone you love is going through something hard and starts to open up, try counting to five in your head before you respond. Just five seconds. It sounds so small, but it interrupts that reflex to jump in and fix or comfort too quickly, and it gives the other person room to keep talking, or to simply exist in the quiet without pressure. Over time, this becomes a habit that changes how you show up for people, not just in grief, but in every hard conversation.

Now, I also want to talk about something that might sound like it contradicts everything I just said, but stay with me for a bit. Sometimes, doing something together really does help, and it can help both of you. There's a reason grief support often looks like meal trains, or friends showing up to help with paperwork, or someone doing the dishes while the grieving person just sits quietly in the same room. Action can be its own form of presence. It's not about talking the pain away, it's about being useful in a way that doesn't require your friend to perform conversation they just don't have the energy for. Folding laundry together, taking a slow walk without needing to talk the whole time. Sitting side by side while you both work on something with your hands, like sorting through photos or working thru a closet of clothes.

This kind of shared activity can actually be easier for both people than to have face to face conversation, because it takes the pressure off. Grief researchers who study what bereaved people find genuinely comforting have noted that acts of concern, the small tangible things people do, showing up, helping with a task, are consistently named as some of the most valued forms of support. It's not always the depth of the conversation. Sometimes it's simply the depth of your willingness to be there and do the un-glamorous, quiet work alongside someone. And this matters for you too, not just for the person grieving. Watching someone you love suffer and feeling like there's nothing you can do to fix it is genuinely hard on your own heart. Having something concrete to do, a task, an action, a way to be useful, can help you process your own helplessness in the face of someone else's pain. This is self care too. Taking care of a grieving friend means also taking care of your own capacity to stay present without burning out, and sometimes movement or action gives you a way to process what you're also witnessing.

One more thing I want to mention is that grief doesn't follow a set timeline, and support tends to fade much faster than the pain does. In the first week or two after a loss, people often show up in full force with meals, cards, and visits. But grief doesn't end when the casseroles stop coming. The month after, the six month mark, the first birthday or holiday without that person, these are often the moments your friend feels the most alone, especially when everyone else has quietly moved on with their own lives. One of the simplest and most caring things you can do is mark those dates for yourself, and reach out to them. A short text on the anniversary of the loss, or on a birthday that used to be celebrated together, tells your friend that you haven't forgotten, and that their person hasn't been forgotten either. That kind of remembering, just a short “hey I’m thinking of you today” without any expectation of a long response, can really help them on those days that are weeks and months later.

I want to share a quote with you from Queen Elizabeth the second. After the terrorist attacks of September 11, she sent a message of comfort to the American people, and in it she wrote that grief is the price we pay for love. It helps to reframe grief to show it's not something gone wrong. It's proof that love existed. And when you show up for a grieving friend, sitting in silence with them, asking what would make today easier, folding their laundry or walking beside them without needing to talk, you are honoring that love too. You're saying, I see how much this person meant, and I am not going to let you carry that alone.

So here's what I want you to take with you today. Remember you don't need the perfect words, because really there aren't any. What your grieving friend needs is your steady presence, your willingness to ask specific questions of how you can help today today, and your comfort with silence, even when every instinct in you tells you to fill in the silence with words. And sometimes, the most loving thing you can do is simply show up and do something alongside them, not to fix the unfixable, but to say, in your own way, I'm here, and I'm not leaving. And reflect on the ways you've learned to love and support people well, not through perfect words, but through steady presence, and so that it can remind you, on the days you feel unsure of what to do or how to help, that you already know how. 

Of course don’t forget that if you’re struggling too, then make sure you turn this inward and realize that you too may need time to grieve, and heal, and that there is no set timeline. That you too get to remember you may not be able to fix a particular situation but instead give it time and give yourself time and kindness without words if that’s what’s needed. Thank you to Lorraine for suggesting this topic and for all of you listening, please feel free to comment for any topics you want to hear. Thank you for listening today and thank yourself for wanting to be a better human and help those around you that may be struggling including yourself. And please share this with anyone that either is struggling with their own grief, letting them know you are thinking of them, or anyone who is trying to help others and let them know there are no perfect ways, there are no perfect words, but just caring and kindness in so many ways that do really make a difference. Grief is heavy and none of us can carry it for someone else, but we can walk alongside them and we can sit in the silence with them. We can ask what today needs and honor just that. And that kind of caring, that kind of quiet presence becomes its own kind of peace, it’s own path for healing, little by little and peace by peace.