Thanks for our thoughtful post. I think it helps a lot to talk about these things–even though we mostly don’t like to be reminded about our mortality. Sometimes just being with someone without words and accepting tears and grief can be powerful. Sometimes people feel most comfortable grieving by themselves. Years ago I read a book about grief–can’t remember the title–that talked about asking the person to talk and remember the person who died. Something like saying,”Tell me about your mom.” This helps a person to begin to grieve. Grief can be more than tears but tears are expected. Grieving people often need time and space to process the loss. It can be huge but there is the other side of grief. Everyone gets there in their own time.

Not very helpful, is it?

@J., I’m so sorry about your Mom. If there was ever a reason to put your head down… but so sad to lose a friend, on top of it, because she wasn’t able to accept your style of grief, what you needed to do to get through it…

@Rob, you’ve put your finger on what troubles me about the phrase, even though I know I’ve said it myself more than once. It’s such a relief, isn’t it, when one can look around and find something practical to do, just something to help out in some small way.

@Mitch, don’t you find that sometimes even just acknowledging that you don’t know what to do or say — coming right out and saying that — can be a good way to help someone tell you what they need from you? Sometimes…

@Pinhole, yes, indeed, there’s a lot to be said for being there and listening. I’ll bet that you’re as good a listener as you are a rambler-on, too!

@Neena, I have a theory about that. When the person who has had a loss is a close friend, the loss is partly shared by you, almost… so it’s easier to empathize and find a way to respond. Distance makes it all more difficult to judge what will help.

@Sue, your husband is clearly a prince! When grief is the dominant emotion, a small thing like a broken screen door can just be overwhelming. What a wonderful (and quintessentially male) gesture of practical sympathy — to look around, see the need, grab a screwdriver and go to it!

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had a chance to do a lot of thinking about sympathy cards, too… what works to bring comfort; what doesn’t so much.

Two thoughts there:

1. Sometimes a card reflects giver’s faith and not mine: but that’s okay. The intention of comfort is clear, and that’s what matters, not the fine points of theology.

2. When I sent someone else a sympathy card, any time from now on, I’m going to make a point of writing at least a line or two inside, rather than just signing my name and not much more. It’s hard to find something to say, but even just a couple of lines of personal thoughts do make such a difference.

First, I’m so sorry for your recent loss.

Which brings me to my comment. The best thing to say is, “I’m so sorry.” With a touch of some sort, a hug if you’re close, a reach out and take the hand if you’re not.
The “if there’s anything I can do” line is too open ended, like the others have said. I think Rob O. has the best way to help. I’m reminded of a time my current husband lost a friend; he was at the widow’s house after the funeral and noticed the screen door was broken. He just picked up a screwdriver and fixed it. It’s those kinds of things that really mean a lot.

Holidays can be especially difficult.

In my experience, friends who knew when to let me ramble were invaluable. I will probably need to buy them all a Beltone hearing aid…or, at the very least some salve for their ears.

So, for example, make more specific helpful advances like, “I’m headed to the market for a few items. Could I pick up some milk, pet food, or anything for you while I’m there?” or “Since I’m headed to the post office anyway, do you have any bills or letters that I could drop off for you?”

Perhaps there’s dry-cleaning to be picked up or kids who need to be shuttled around town. Think of the day-to-day routine “to do” stuff that’re easy to lose track of and then offer to lend a hand with those.