On grief and condoling

I never quite know what to say to a grieving person.

But I do know that keeping quiet is better than saying the wrong things. So, I just sit and stare. I occasionally ask if they need anything; a sip of water, some pillows, Kleenex? Mostly, I just stay and be THERE, physically.

It doesn’t matter if it is a loss I have experienced before, saying something inane like ‘welcome to the club’ is something people should be kicked in the teeth for.

The dynamics of every relationship are different; the loss of a friend to one person could be ‘greater’ than the tragic loss of both your parents on the same day.

It took me a while to learn this. Years ago, I thought people shouldn’t feel so bereaved when they lost a grandparent because, if you are sad that you lost your grandmother, would you rather have lost your mother instead? It just made sense to me at the time.

But as I grew older, I realized that we mean different things to different people. I found out that some people were actually mothered by their grandmothers and such a loss is felt too deeply, in a way that is hard, even impossible to explain. While there might be fanfare and an elaborate funeral party, they’re left with a hole in their heart, even more bereaved than their parent who’s lost a parent.

I really hate that thing where people think they’re condoling with someone and they say things like “Oh. I also lost so and so person in so and so year. Don’t worry, you’ll get over it”

Even worse is “eeyah, I know how you feel.” No, you don’t. Yes, you may have lost your mother or sister too, but that doesn’t mean you know how they feel. Their loss isn’t commensurate to yours and what all the emotions you felt then, are definitely different from what they’re feeling now, regardless of the similitude of your losses.

And the absolute worst of the lot are those who expect the bereaved to be ‘strong’ and not grieve in whatever way they choose to purge the emotion.

“Be a man. Stop crying. Life goes on. Aren’t you a believer? Don’t you submit to God’s will?”

Someone’s life has just changed irrevocably; I could write a full dissertation on the many ways their life has been altered, yet you want him to be a man and not…feel?

Long after I leave a bereaved person, I always wonder if my presence, while definitely not enough to make them feel better, didn’t at least make them feel worse.

I don’t remember ever offering words of consolation other than telling someone who’s experiencing grief not to blame themselves for their loss, not to feel responsible for it because it’s a huge burden to bear.

I say the occasional ‘sorry’ and hand over a handkerchief and squeeze a hand or give a hug as they bawl their eyes. I know that their tears that day are only a small fraction of the buckets they’d later cry alone, in the privacy of their room, many months, and even years after the death of a loved one.

I know how tough it is going to be for them to deal with, and eventually come to terms with their loss. But whenever someone is grieving, I sit there and say nothing.

Because I never know what to say to a grieving person. I only know how to be physically present.