Many years ago, a colleague’s mother died. She wasn’t old, my colleague was young, as was I, and I can remember to this day the terror of not knowing what to say or do. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than losing a parent. Being empathic didn’t help because I could feel his suffering. I knew how I would feel in his shoes and didn’t trust myself not to burst into tears.
So, to my great and lasting shame, I avoided him. I said nothing. I could barely look him in the eye. If I could go back to my 20-something year old self, I’d be compassionate – I hadn’t yet experienced grief – but also give myself a good talking to. I know now that it’s always better to say something – anything – rather than nothing. If we just ignore people who are grieving and don’t acknowledge their loss we leave them even more isolated and alone.
Second time around…
Many years later, a colleague’s Dad died. And this time, having lost my own beloved father several years before, I was better prepared. I supported her through his illness, attended his funeral and kept in touch afterwards.
The main difference between these experiences is that second time around, I’d been through grief. Once you’ve experienced world-changing, shattering loss, you are never the same. I think people divide pretty neatly into those who have and have not experienced grief, and those of us that have exist on a different planet.
Second time around, I was also older, but I’m not sure age has much to do with it. I’ve seen teenagers bravely speak at funerals and I’m in awe of their poise and strength.
As a counsellor, I am told time and time again that people who the client thought were genuine friends have simply disappeared into thin air following a bereavement. They have failed, utterly, to support them. It happens almost every time and, while 20-something, un-grief-baptised me would quite possibly have been just as useless, it’s simply not good enough. We can all do better.
Three ways to support a bereaved person
So, what should you do if a friend or colleague is bereaved? Three suggestions:
Say something: you’re not going to make it worse by acknowledging their loss. What will make it infinitely worse is ignoring it. It can be hard to say the words but this is their loss, not yours so take a deep breath and say something along the lines of: “I’m so sorry to hear about (name of person who has died). Such an awful thing to have happened. How are you today?” (the TODAY is really important, if you ask how they are – well, funnily enough, bloody awful.) If you can’t say the words, send a card.
Keep in touch: once the funeral is over, people rapidly forget what’s happened and think life has returned to ‘normal’. For the bereaved person, there is no ‘normal’ to return to. They have a new and wholly unwelcome ‘normal’ and their immensely difficult task is adjusting to it. Be the person who recognises this and check-in with them regularly.
Be patient: understand there is no time limit on grief. There is no one thing you can ‘do’, there is no ‘making it better’ and there is no such thing as ‘getting over’ a loss, you simply learn to live alongside it. Grief is a long process of adjustment and accommodation and, ultimately, accepting. It is overwhelming at first and over time it becomes less dominant, an integrated part of the fabric of your life, but it takes time. Don’t be the person who thinks (or, heaven forfend, SAYS) “It’s been six months, don’t you think you should be getting over it by now?”.
And at some point, gently float the idea that counselling might help. Not immediately, it takes time to get over the shock, but when they’re ready it definitely helps to talk.