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What can you do for a person who is bereaved?

The following are suggestions written by various members of alt.support.grief which are meant to be of assistance to anyone wishing to gain an understanding of what is helpful and what is not for a bereaved person.




Lana Swan writes:

It is my impression that those who are most in need of help are least able to ask.

My daughter, Brooke, age 16, was killed on August 24th and the pain right now is so overwhelming that I am not yet able to put it into words.

Other than the physical presence of those who cared for me and were able to actually come and be with me, the most helpful things were:

1- A card with a list of concrete things the person had to offer listed 1, 2, 3.
2- Invitations to coffee, dinner, a walk, a visit or whatever
3- Cards and letters with pictures or memories of Brooke
4- Advice to accept any and all offers of help
5- Information about and attending a grief support group
6- A place for relatives to stay
7- Transportation to/from the airport for relatives
8- Assistance in planning and organizing the funeral
9- Non-perishable food items
10- Listmaking and recordkeeping so thank yous can be sent

Things which would have been helpful, but weren't offered:

1- Transportation to doctor's appointments, grocery store, etc. It was really difficult to drive in the first days and weeks.
2- Assistance with errands, shopping, housecleaning, etc. Everything is SO hard when you're trying to rebuild your entire life, there is little energy for these essential tasks.
3- Childcare so you can rest without having to worry about the needs and safety of your surviving child or children.
4- Addressing and stamping envelopes for thank you notes.


Diane Bassett writes:

About compiling a list of things to do for our friends who are grieving.. your timing is perfect for me.

My friend and his wife lost their first child who lived only about 6 days, and she was very very sick the whole time. It was (and is) wrenching for them, and I want very much to support them however I can. One thing I clearly understand is that parents who lose a child will always hold that child dear to them in their heart, and that it's hard for them that the rest of society seems to forget their child and just trudge on.

I am on the lookout for a nice piece of jewelry-- I'm thinking a silver heart, maybe, on a chain- that I can have engraved with their daughter's name. It would be more a gift to the wife, but a gesture to both of them that I have not forgotten their child and that I know she will always be a part of their family.

I *think* this would be comforting to them. At least to know that I have not just brushed off the existence of their child.




Phil writes:

Some random thoughts below ... will probably think of more after I sign off. Hard to generalize about others .. but some things that helped me or would have been appreciated.

- Be a good listener ... I wanted to talk about Annie all the time ... still do talk about her a lot. And about my life ... our life together. Support groups helped fill this need. Would be lost without them.

- Concrete help .... not just "call me if you need something". Bring over a dinner or other food ... hard to even think of food those first months.

- A previous writer to this thread mentioned help planning the funeral. That was so helpful to me. Could not have done it.

- A note or a call. They mean so much ! Particularly a few months later ... when everyone gets on with their lives ... and the grieving person is alone with their pain. An invitation out to do something .. also welcome. Was not interested in anything at first ... but later these type of invitations welcome.

- One out-of-state friend knew I was having trouble sleeping ... she sent me a box of "Sleepytime" tea. That made my day !

- Call the person from time to time. Meant so much to me to have others concerned ... looking out for me. Annie was no longer there to fill that role for me. Made me feel "wanted" in some way I guess.

Brian Wood writes:

I think the best, but perhaps most difficult, thing people can do is to try to put aside their own notions on what a grieving person should do for themselves. When my grief was brand new I found I had no time for well meaning people who made me feel I should act a certain way or do certain things. Trying to fulfill their expectations took energy from me, energy I couldn't spare. In my case I was most comforted by those who could drop their own expectations and were willing to just be there with me or for me. That increased my strength. I don't think I could have been "helped" at that time, but I was very warmly supported by many kind friends.

Sam writes:

I think one thing is that people should expect us to have wide variations in moods. I may think of other things later.

Michael Nettleton writes to a friend of a family who experienced the death of their child:

Three other things to consider. YMMV

1) If the death of your friends' child was recent (within months) they *may* still be very much in shock from the experience. We were, and many others I have met were like this.

2) After a while, we found that nobody wanted to talk about our Robyn's death. Many others I have met have experienced this. Just to have an honestly interested ear was one of the most important things for us -- it separated our real friends from ones who have become more distant. If you want to be a caring ear for your friends, don't force the issue. Just let them know you will *listen*.

3) The *one* single gesture that touched us most was on the day that would have been Robyn's first birthday, we received a card in her memory from close friends.

I hope these suggestions are helpful.

Dale Monahan writes:

During the first stages one needs help but it also continues for years - birthdays of your loved one and date of death.

All of us who have lost loved ones could probably suggest at least one thing that shouldn't be said if we remember our own experiences.

I know that that is in the negative but sometimes knowing what not to say is as important as what to say.

Here are some suggestions of what not to say:

1. To a parent who has lost a child, don't say, "Well, you still have _________ ."

2. Don't say, "It was God's will. Or God wanted a flower for his garden."

Bill Chadwick writes:

I hope you all like this as much as I did. It is reprinted from a The Compassionate Friends newsletter. Tom.....feel free to use it on your new page!

This is taken from an article by Betty Baggott. She is a freelance writer and a member of the board of directors of The Alabama Baptist. She is the wife of Bob Baggott, pastor of First Baptist Church, Birmingham, AL.

WHAT WE WISH OTHERS UNDERSTOOD ABOUT THE LOSS OF OUR CHILD

1. I wish you would not be afraid to speak my child's name. My child lived and was important, and I need to hear his name.

2. If I cry or get emotional if we talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn't because you have hurt me; the fact that my child died has caused my tears. You have allowed me to cry, and I thank you. Crying and emotional outbursts are healing.

3. I wish you wouldn't "kill" my child again by removing from your home his pictures, artwork, or other rememberances.

4. I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs. I wish you wouldn't think that if I have a good day my grief is all over, or that if I have a bad day I need psychiatric counseling.

5. I wish you knew that the death of a child is different from other losses and must be viewed separately. It is the ultimate tragedy, and I wish you wouldn't compare it to your loss of a parent, a spouse, or a pet.

6. Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me.

7. I wish you knew that all of the "crazy" grief reactions that I am having are in fact very normal. Depression, anger, frustration, hopelessness, and the questioning of values and beliefs are to be expected following the death of a child.

8. I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in six months. The first few years are going to be exceedingly traumatic for us. As with alcoholics, I will never be "cured" or a "former bereaved parent," but will forevermore "be a recovering bereaved parent."

9. I wish you understood the physical reactions to grief. I may gain weight or lose weight, sleep all the time or not at all, develop a host of illnesses, and be accident prone-all of which may be related to my grief.

10. Our child's birthday, the anniversary of his death, and holidays are terrible times for us. I wish you could tell us that you are thinking about our child on these days, and if we get quiet and withdraw, just know that weare thinking about our child and don't try to coerce us into being cheerful.

11. It is normal and good that most of us re-examine our faith, values, and beliefs after losing a child. We will question things we have been taught all our lives and hopefully come to some new understanding with our God. I wish you would let me tangle with my religion without making me feel guilty.

12. I wish you wouldn't offer me drinks or drugs. These are just temporary crutches and the only way I can get through this grief is to experience it. I have to hurt before I can heal.

13. I wish you understood that grief changes people. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I never will be that person again. If you keep waiting for me to "get back to my old self," you will stay frustrated. I am a new creature with new thoughts, dreams, aspirations, values, and beliefs. Please try to get to know the new me-maybe you"ll like me still.

I believe that instead of sitting around and waiting for our wishes to come true, we have an obligation to tell people some of the things we have learned about our grief. We can teach these lessons with great kindness, believing that people have good intentions and want to do what is right, but just don't know what to do with us.

Patricia Hill writes:

I like your idea very much. here are some of the things people did for me after my husband died.

He died in the autumn of last year. A few days after the memorial service, I looked out my window to find my neighbors raking my yard and carting away the leaves. What a gift.

My employer told me to take as much time as I wanted, with pay -- and meant it.

Food that can be stored for awhile. Eventually, the appetite returns.

One friend (bless her) came over every Wednesday with a pizza, a 6-pack and a video. She still does.

Childcare. My daughter was an infant at the time, and it really helped to be able to do errands and whatnot without having to either schlepp her around with me or pay a sitter.

Definitely -- remember important dates. Birthday, wedding anniversary, the date of death. Those people who remembered and sent cards or called live in my heart forever.

A neighbor did a complete pre-winter check of my house, put up the storms, etc. Over the winter, he plowed my driveway and shoveled my walks. In the spring and summer, he mowed my lawn. The guy's a saint.

Finally, stay in touch. Yes, life goes on and eveyone's busy, but for the person in grief, time exists as a double exposure -- "now" and "then." Don't forget to look back for the friend still standing on the other side of yesterday.

Hope this helps.

Erika Buky writes:

#1 on what NOT to say is anything along the lines of "It's for the best."

Also: no need to be original in expression of condolences. I don't know why my brother-in-law thought it necessary, but on my dad's death he left me a very weird and rambling phone message that had me and my husband slack-jawed in embarrassment for him. A simple "I'm sorry to hear of your loss" or "I am thinking of you" works perfectly well.

If you're close to the bereaved person, offer help planning the funeral, talking with the funeral director, etc.

I know some people advise gifts of food, etc., but my experience is that you need something pretty basic to occupy yourself. Offer HELP with shopping, cooking, etc., but don't treat the bereaved person like an invalid if he/she seems to be functioning OK at that level.

During my dad's illness I saw an airport book called something like "Can I Help?" It dealt with how to offer help in many different situations, but one was bereavement--the author lost his wife to cancer. It was surprisingly helpful to me even though I only read a bit of it while waiting for my flight. Wish I could remember the author's name.

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Crisis, Grief, and Healing: Tom Golden LCSW