Please Don’t Say That
In FaceBook (an internet social site), I put a call out to people who had gone through grief. I asked them what helped most and what helped least when it came to support from friends. The overwhelming response I received didn’t surprise me. I’ll post it in its entirety in the Members Only Section inside.
People agreed that some things people say help, other things people say do more than hurt. The wrong thing said at the wrong time can cause an ordinarily passive person to want to put on the boxing gloves and go ten rounds. People who responded to my question agreed they would prefer someone saying little or nothing instead of nervously babbling and saying the wrong things. Words are powerful. They can build up or tear apart, heal or hurt, strengthen or weaken when they’re heard. Learn to let the words we speak be compassionate and powerful words that help people heal.
DO NOT SAY:
“It’s God’s Will.” While that’s likely true for those who believe in a Higher Power, hearing it said doesn’t help. It can make people even angrier than they already are at God because this pain is their path. Trust friends and loved ones to discover this idea for themselves.
“You must not become angry at God; that’s wrong,” one person said to me when my son died and I expressed my anger at God. “You can’t feel that way,” she said. “It’s wrong. Getting angry at God cuts you off from your source of help and support.” These words didn’t help. Now I had guilt about my feelings added to the already overwhelming pile of feelings I had in the weeks, months, and years following my son’s death. Feeling guilty about feeling angry at God is an unnecessary emotion. God is big enough to handle our anger and rage. Feeling angry at the other person is part of any normal intimate relationship. Feeling close enough to God to feel angry is expresses our love and faith. It’s perfectly okay if that’s how we feel.
“I know how you feel.” No, you don’t. Even if you experienced a similar loss, how do you know your friend or loved one is feeling exactly as you felt? Each of us has our own unique emotional responses to our loss. If you truly knew how someone felt, you wouldn’t need to express that because your friend would know that you understood. Don’t assume. Ask. Let people be who they are and feel the way they do. Realize how they feel may be different than you.
“Aren’t you over that yet?” It was the first Christmas after my son Shane died. I was walking through the mall when someone who was a longtime friend approached me. “How are you?” he asked. “I’m not doing too well,” I replied. He looked surprised. “Why not? What’s wrong?” he asked. “My son died,” I said. He reeled back like I had leprosy. “Aren’t you over that yet?” he asked?” Those were the most hurtful words spoken to me that anyone said. We tend to beat ourselves up, thinking we should move more quickly through our grief. One friend even told me that “I’d show people how to deal with grief in record time. because of the work I did.” I may have broken records, but it was the other kind. It takes most people about eight years to get through the worst part of losing a child. It took me close to ten and that’s alright. We each have our own personal velocity, our own pace. We probably won’t move at the same speed as the rest of the world. It’s your grief, your loss, and you’ll deal with it when you do.
“He (or she) is happier or better off now.” Times when we’ve watched someone suffer a long, drawn-out painful death, seeing a loved one not suffer anymore can be a blessing. But let the person say those words himself. What wife wants to think her husband is happier without her? What parent wants to hear that his or her child is better off without that parent? These aren’t words of comfort; they’re words that hurt the grieving person and make us (the person attempting to offer comfort) feel better.
“Let me know if there’s something you need.” These words don’t hurt but they don’t help either. Grieving people often have no idea what they need. What they want is for the loss not to have occurred. Think of something helpful you can do, and then do it. Going grocery shopping became a difficult task for a while, although later on it became a comforting errand. Movies can help some people in grief; they like to watch a story. It helps them heal. If that’s the case with your friend, bring the person some DVDs or go to movies with them. If you rent DVDs for your friend, stop by and pick them up and return them when they’re due. Other people like to read and journal. Take them to the bookstore or buy them a journal. Cook for your friend. Make and freeze some meals, put them in containers, label and date them, and bring them to your friend. Don’t sit and wait for an invitation to eat over. Your friend may want to eat alone or might not be hungry now. Sometimes doing chores such as mowing the lawn, washing the car, or doing other errands or chores can be practical and helpful things to do. But before you get too deeply involved and assume too much, ask your friend if doing a particular chore or errand is something your friend would like. Your friend lost something important – but it wasn’t his or her mind. Respect people’s boundaries.
“You need to give a gift to everyone who was there for you the week of your son’s death. Paying for them to take a vacation is the proper way to say ‘thank you.’” Yes, someone really said that to me and yes, the group of people who received money to take a trip included her. People in grief – especially deep loss – are extremely vulnerable. They need protection, not people taking advantage of them. (Things like this happen more than you think.) I expected Life to protect me after my loss but the opposite happened; the vultures came to pick at my bones.
Let’s move on to things we can say that help. (One activity we’ll work on inside is writing a comfort letter. There’s a precise form that can comfort and help someone in grief.)
DO CONSIDER SAYING:
“I’m at a loss for words” or “All I can say is I love you and I’m sorry for your loss.” Remember your mission is to comfort your friend, not comfort yourself. When in doubt about what to say, tell the truth and keep it brief.
“This really sucks that you have to go through this, but I know you’re strong and you’ll make it through – whether you want to or not.” Don’t start looking for the silver lining. Sometimes life sucks. Admit it. Tell the truth. Express belief in your friend. He or she may need to see your belief reflected in your eyes.
“Call any time of the day or night. It’s never too early or too late if you need and want to talk. ” Don’t push your friend to talk but don’t put earplugs in, either. Your friend may need to tell the loss story over and over. People need to do this to integrate the unthinkable into their lives. Don’t call them in the middle of the night, though. That’s not okay, unless the person specifically asked you to do that. A relative began calling me had nightly just as I was about to fall asleep. It was annoying, disturbing, and it didn’t help. Plus the person was drinking. I stopped taking that person’s calls.
Ask the person if he or she feels comfortable discussing the loss of the person. Some people want to talk; others don’t. If the person doesn’t mind talking, share a favorite memory about the person who died. It helps keep the person alive in a good way. A large fear when we lose someone to death is that we’ll forget the person or the deceased person will forget us. Sharing special memories can make a person feel good even though it might cause them to cry. Another good way to do this is by picking out a card and writing about the memory you had with the person. Be sure to make it a positive, funny, or loving memory that speaks to the person’s good qualities. The memories you share will be deeply appreciated and cherished.
Being around someone in deep pain — or even medium pain — can make us feel awkward and uncomfortable. It’s not your job to fix anyone or take away their pain. We don’t have that much power. Trying to fix someone also implies that it’s not okay for that person to feel his or her feelings. That can make your friend feel more uncomfortable than they already do. Be yourself. If you’re not sure what to say, then the less said the better. Let your friend or loved one lead the way. Use your gifts and skills to pick up on what the other person needs. Validating hos your friend feels can be the most helpful thing anyone can do. Let what you say and do communicate that the person’s feelings and the length of time he’s grieving is perfectly okay — because it is.
Remember, if you’re not sure whether the person is comfortable talking about their loss, don’t assume. Ask if they want to talk or not. Then respect what you hear. Just assuring a friend that you believe in their power to survive the loss they’ve experienced can be an empowering and healing thing to do.
This is a fantastic post. I lost my Dad on the 14th of Sept and I have commented to my mom about how people say the wrong thing and how I have learned so much for myself when faced with another persons loss. We just lost a friend of the family so this was good timing before we attend his memorial Saturday. It is also nice to know that my mom and I are not the only ones that have felt this way.
Thanks for taking time to share with the site. The more people hear how important their words are, the more they’re able to think about it — and change. I’m sorry about your loss. It’s almost unvelieveable how much and how long it can hurt. Blessings and best wishes, Melody
I realize that this is kind of out of context, as my loss was my livelihood- my “self”. July 24th, 2010 I survived a high speed head-on collision that changed my life. I can’t count the numbers of people that have told me how lucky I am (to have survived). I quickly correct them with “I was blessed, luck had nothing to do with it.” If you are LUCKY enough to know someone that miraculously survived a horrible tragedy, please don’t tell him/her how lucky he/she is to be a survivor.
You’re not “out of context” at all. These are the kinds of things I want posted here — directly from the people involved, and what helps, what comforts, and what doesn’t feel good. My pet peeve, though, is people who say, “God must really love me. I went through “X” and should have died, but didn’t. It makes me wonder …. does my son’s death mean God doesn’t love me? I know it doesn’t mean that — but that’s the logical conclusion of where “God loves me because I didn’t have a loss…… I believe it’s more an issue of we each have a different path, a different death and birth date. The day we die (or don’t) has nothing whatsoever with our High Power’s feelings towards us. It’s about our journey through life and life after life. The biggest problem is that most people (unless they’ve encountered deep loss) aren’t really trying to comfort the other person, they’re trying to make themselves feel more comfortable around someone who has encountered deep, tragic loss. Thank you for taking the time to comment. I appreciate it. If you can suggest any other things that might have been more comforting to you, please feel free to write in and let us know what those comments are. Melody Beattie
Thanks for your reply, Melody. I hope you don’t mind the familiarity, but I’ve been reading your work for many years and “feel” familiar. You’ve given me food for thought, which I welcome. I didn’t realize, or mean to infer to others that God loves me more (or less), so I need to express myself better because I can understand your point…I love feedback, and you’re the first person to share some perspective with me!
Perhaps “blessed” isn’t the correct word for me to replace “lucky”. My hobbies are kayaking, horse-back riding, photography, and landscaping, so I wasn’t comprehending “lucky”. I think I decided that I was more blessed than lucky, and felt offended that any reasonable person could look at someone with a broken neck, two broken arms, (what one of my doctors described as a) pulverized wrist, and various other injuries and say, “You’re lucky to be alive.”
What has been getting me through this journey is my faith. Knowing that my heavenly Father is preparing me for something…In other words, I’m not suffering through this for nothing. God has a plan, and has not given me more than I can bare. I am having a hard time accepting the changes, but I’m learning to live with them.
Hi. I apologize to you — I wasn’t referring (and I had a flash of fear that you would think I was implying that) that you meant the “God really loves me” thing by saying “you were blessed, not lucky.” If you’re healing, I think you’re definitely blessed. But from the sounds of it, you felt neither particularly blessed or lucky. You sounded “hurt” — physically. While some people say God never gives us more than we can handle, I’ve often felt like I’ve had far more on my plate than I could eat — even taking it one bite at a time. Melody Beattie (At any rate, I didn’t take your comment personally. I thought it was good, and I encourage you to continue participating. We need to teach people how to comfort, nurture, and ease the pain of those in deep grief.)
Melody: “Being around someone in deep pain — or even medium pain — can make us feel awkward and uncomfortable. It’s not your job to fix anyone or take away their pain. We don’t have that much power. ”
More and more I’m electrically aware of the “sacredness” of **being** with another human being as they are feeling pain. Called many things, my therapist (also the therapist in the complicated grief group of which I am a member) and I speak often about being one who can “hold the space”. I am so confused and doubtful about much that once upon a time I felt able to “do”… but that, holding the space… in that I have no doubt. I can “be there”… be one witness, one being like them… be there in their silences, be there when they find a word or words to describe their experience of how it is to be a human in pain, in loss. There I moments still when so much of me cries out in revolt.. “This is not enough…” and there is much truth in that… but I don’t know so often what is enough for me, let alone what is enough for someone else… and what if there is no such thing as “enough” except by mutually-agreed-upon silent acknowledgement of what remains ineffable.
I was able to “hold space” for my grown son this morning via Skype.. as he puts one foot in front of the other, assailed by the illusion that he is standing still. He said it: Mom, I know you “get it”. Lawdy lawdy how much I need Others… sometimes many of them lined up who can look me in the eyes and say, “Donna, I get it.”
So, here I am… infinite consciousness fitted tightly inside my finite tiny lost body-mind… knowing in pristine albeit fleeting moments that I can be a someone holding the space for another someone… saying with a word or words or no words that I “get it”.
Very few people are able to hold the space with someone in pain. They jump around, twirl around, blabber, blame, jabber, but to be, and just be there, takes more than many people have. People can learn to do it. We learn to breathe; we learn to be, and be present for. It takes practice. We can start by practicing on ourselves. I hear so many people talk about hope, but hope is for tomorrow. Faith is being able to be where we are today, feel what we feel, be who we are, stay in our body, and be okay — no matter what other people think or say. For those who want to comfort, make sure you’re comforting the person in pain, not trying to make yourself more comfortable by making the other person’s pain go away. It’s hard. I’ve learned by going through it myself. The people who were the ones I could be around, and who could be around me, were those who had walked in my shoes. Those were the ones who needed the fewest words. It’s hard to be who we are, and that’s what we need when we hurt. Life will send us what we need, and who we need. I was laying on my couch one day, just crying and yelling and asking God if He remembered me at all, and I said I needed to feel his touch. Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on my door. My neighbor, an old man who had so any surgeries there wasn’t much left of him anymore and who hadn’t been out of bed and walked once since he came home from the hospital, was standing there. He said my housekeeper had just given his housekeeper the book about the death of my son. She gave it to him, and he read it. He’d gone deaf from complications of one of his surgeries. He stood there, tears streaming down his face, his whole abdomen visible because all they put back was a plastic shield, and he asked if he could give me a hug. I said yes. Then I helped him walk back home. When I got back home, all I could do was laugh — not in a mean way, but in joy at our Creator. I knew I had just felt his touch. Our Higher Power, however we understand God, needs each of us to do what he can’t do — reach out and touch someone and as you say, “Hold the space.” Melody Beattie
This is a powerful one for me!
As Gina says – for the most part people are trying to say the “right” thing…
On the day of my only brother’s funeral at the end of June this year, whilst waiting for the hearse, I was told by a relative
“Don’t cry – you’ll make me cry”
Found out the “hard way” from whom I need to stay away!
What you’re referring to is one of the biggest gifts and curses of losing someone we love. We become super-sensitized. People I could normally endure (for a few moments) became intolerable. I could no longer pretend who I did or didn’t like.
Thank you for this, for me it is so true. After the recent unexpected death of my sister, the Do Not Say examples you pointed out are great. Though I do believe for the most part people are trying to say the “right” thing they do make it worse by saying those things. For me, my heart hurt so bad and still does. Her,Franny, passing in May of this year remains to big for me to wrap my head around. Sometimes not saying nothing at all is better than saying things that we don’t want to hear.