What's the best thing anyone has ever said or done when you were grieving?

[Flamingo1980]

You know how people always say "I didn't know what to do/say" when someone dies - let's find out what IS helpful. You lot always come out with brilliant stuff.

When my dad died everyone just said "Hope you're okay". I found this extremely unhelpful and actually very isolating. Of course I wasn't okay - but no offer of help, only 'hope'.
The best thing anyone said came from a girl I didn't know very well who just said: "I'm so sorry about your dad, it's shit isn't it?" - I was so relieved someone had acknowledged it was shit and so let me talk about how rubbish it was. The relief!
What have you found helped?

This thread has made me cry.. It's also made me realise I'm not going insane...that my madness is similar to others.. Thankyou

Make sure you eat well and sleep (well). Eat well and sleep well is a saying in our family. It really struck chord when my dad died

I was given a copy of the poem, Death is Nothing at all

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.

All is well.

It won't necessarily get easier but you'll get used to it being so hard. Which sounds really negative but was actually perfect for me.

My mother died in May last year. I hated it when people said stuff like " its shit isnt it?" Because as many issues I had with my mother she wasn't " shit" and nor is my grief "Shit"

Its just such an individual thing what feels right for each person.

The best things anyone said was just a simple " I am here if you need me" usually followed by a hug. I also loved condolences cards. I got some from people who I really would not have expected them from.

On the morning of her (very unexpected) death I went to church. (I live in a different country to my mother so could not make it to where she was) I tried to sneak in just at the very start of the sermon so I didnt have to speak to anyone. However one of the Church wardens took one look at me and said " Whats wrong?" On responding that my mother had died that morning , she just gave me this big hug and said simply " I am so sorry"

Later on she came and got my mothers name and during the prayers named her. (quite a thing to do on the spot like that) it helped me on the day. Was good to know that people understood what I was going through and showed support.

Eldery next door neighbour on my popping over with some of his parcels asked me how I was and I burst into tears just said " oh dear" In a strange sort of way it made me smile through the grief. was just such a British way to cope with it (he is lovely)

Thing is there is no " proper" way to deal with grief or how you will see what others do and say. My manager who walked up to me the week after she had died on my returning to work saying " should you be here?" Was far more appreciated than those who clearly wanted to say something without actually finding the words. Manager got told "I need normality" and he nodded saying "well you know where I am if you need me" Big boss ended up with me in tears in his office a few weeks later over a related issue by simply asking " are you ok?" No I wasn't and he was lovely about it.

Sometimes all you need is someone to acknowledge your grief We each take it in different ways how we feel that acknowledgement should be.

for all of us.

I wheel this out a lot, but it really helped me in those early, suffocating days.

Also, the amount of people that thought sending me a quick 'inbox' on Facebook would replace a card, or flowers or a phone call/visit. That hurt. A lot
People 'didn't want to be in the way' 'wanted to just come and hug you' yep but you fucking didn't did you.

It's just the acknowledging really, no-you aren't going to fix things, but just letting someone know that yes, this is a Very Shit Thing that has occurred is helpful.

Great thread.

The best thing that happened for me when my parents died was that the same person seemed to appear in my life. My parents died many years apart but by coincidence this same lady was the person to help me most. The thing she did was to make sure that I ate by providing a roll and tea in a café and the next time she arrived at the house and rather than nosey about she went out and bought microwave meals to last me a few days.

Then when I was struck with ill health she helped with the problems specific to that health problem.

I had done practical stuff to help her when her parent died.

I have often wondered why it was the same lady who came to help me at the 3 worst times of my life.

The WORST thing to happen after the death of the second parent a neighbour came to the door stating that she had heard of the death (No attempt at all to express any sympathy). What are you doing with the house? This was within 6 hours of the death and after sitting at the bedside for about a week. I was disgusted. Over the following weeks and months this was the major topic said to me by the neighbours. I don't get into any form of conversation with the people in the area.

One person who I'll never forget just came and cried with me. She wasn't someone I was close to, and honestly I never will be. But she came, and felt so sad for me that she cried. And that touched me.
Also, notes. I read them all every year on the anniversary.
Remembering the anniversary every year (easy to remember date, think Christmas Day.)

Someone sent me a link to this about 3 months after my mother passed. I found a lot of comfort in it

I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not.

I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents...

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. But I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it.

Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too.

If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

On my facebook on the day it happened and on the anniversary I posted this

The life of the dead is placed on the memories of the living.
The love you gave in life keeps people alive beyond their time.
Anyone who was given love will always live on in another's heart.
Marcus Tullius Cicero

Grief isn't something you can fix, it's a journey you have to take - said by my House Mistress who knew my personality well. I didn't like it but I needed to hear it.

My best friend is a do-er, she sorts the practicalities of every day life - invaluable when you've lost the ability to tell up from down.

You don't get over it you just get through it.

2 bereavements, my baby at 24 weeks and my dad in quite sudden circumstances. Both times it was having the space to tell my story and it was the most unexpected people who provided it. With my baby l needed to go over and over events leading up to the end and one elderly neighbour sat with me, cried and let me tell it from beginning to end. 27 years ago and still remember. Ten years since my dad and still appreciate getting to talk about him even In little ways. So l think getting th a t space to feel it's alright to go over the whole event means everything.

After my daughter died, my aunt, who had lost two of her children, wrote a lovely letter in which she wrote "You never get over it but it does get easier to bear". In fact what kept me going in the early days was that she, my aunt, despite her losses, still managed some years on, to laugh and joke and be normal and I lived in hope that I would also get to that point. Which I have, although I never forget dd for a second.

When dh died the number of people who brought lasagnes and tea and cake and just came to say they were sorry was just so helpful.

People who referred to dd and Dh as "angels" or who said God had a plan were not helpful even though I do have a belief in an afterlife. You have to be careful saying faith-based things because even people who share your faith can suffer a huge crisis of faith when bereaved and what you think is helpful might not be at all.

I hated it when people said "I'm hear if you need to talk"...it felt like a shut down rather than an invitation when we were already talking!

Best things: friends who wrote or popped round and acknowledged the rubbish mess of the situation.

Friends who made meals

Friends who remembered the anniversary

^here

When my Dad died and I went back to the village, a childhood friend who'd lived across the road from us turned up at the funeral. I hadn't seen her for about 30 years (I never really went back after Uni) and I didn't even recognise her at first.

But she was the one whose shoulder I sobbed on. So good of her to come really.

My husband suffered a sudden death 3years ago at the age of 39 our nearest family member was (still is) 400 miles away. I will always remember a young woman I knew calling me when I was at the hospital waiting in the relatives room for news. She asked if I wanted company and I said "no I would be OK" she turned up anyway, said she would just wait in the hospital incase I changed my mind. She say beside me while I broke the news to my children and ensured I got them home safely that night. She then turned up every day to take me where I needed to go (there's a lot to do following a sudden death) including to and from the mortuary until his body was released. She talked to my children about Lego etc when everyone else in the house could only ask what happened or talk of arrangements. She has become one of my very closest friends and always remembers us on days that may or will be difficult. She said she was rubbish at this sort of thing and never knows what to say but she has just always been herself and been the most amazing support I could ever have hoped for.

I can't remember much of what was said at the time but I do remember and was extremely grateful to the grandmother of a child in my youngest son's class who sent meals she had made, fresh and frozen and included brief instructions of oven timings etc so I didn't have to think at all and my children would get a nutritious meal. I had never met her but she had heard the news and thought it was a way to help.

People who look beyond what you are saying and see that you need help, then provide it without you needing to ask.

When my Dad died one of his work colleagues came up to me and said it was lovely to meet the dc's as Dad was always talking about them at work. I don't know if that's the kind of thing you meant, op but I really liked it.

After my first miscarriage my neighbour who I didn't know that well came round with chocolates and said she understood how I felt because she had lost a child too. Her DS had died in a car accident as a young adult. She never said anything about her DS being so much older than my baby or that her loss was worse, just reached out to me from one bereaved mum to another.

TMI but after my first miscarriage I haemorrhaged massively in the bathroom. DH called his mum and she came over and cleaned my bathroom and washed my clothes while we were at the hospital.

My brother's best friend made a fb memorilpage and people wrote their est memories of him. I was glued to that page for months.

When my daughter died to begin with the people who offered to actually do a specific thing to help rather than say call if you need me were my biggest support. I knew I could call but I felt like I wad bothering them where as the people who phoned and said "I've an extra portion of dinner, could I bring it round for you?" Or who were at the house and offered to take me shopping, little things, were the biggest help.
After a while people who will let me talk about her, who just sit and listen patiently no matter how upset I get became the biggest support I could have.
Now four years later I have to admit, anyone who remembers when it is her birthday or anniversary and thinks to so much as send a text acknowledging it is a massive help. This year was the first year everyone forgot and I suddenly realised how much those texts helped on previous years

My husband died 7 weeks ago at just 37, the worst are those who just try to ignore it, it becomes very awkward, or actually those that keep saying they are sorry, I've found that a bit irritating.
Some of the better ones, 'you won't get over it, but your'll learn to live with it' and any one that offers a hug. I was overwhelmed with cards and messages, just a few words about the person and to let the bereaved know you are thinking of them.
The are you ok thing I think is just people's need to say something, my standard answer is fine/ok out of politeness I think, quickly followed by 'well no not really really'

Oh and almost forgot, the people that helped discuss things with the children.
It's difficult to know what they're thinking as well as reminding yourself to reassure them when your world has broken.
Someone bought mine a copy of
'Badger's parting gifts' by Susan Varley. A lovely book if children have lost a grandparent.

Doesn't this thread prove how very different we all are? I would never hate anyone for saying the wrong thing-as long as they tried. That sounds so patronising

I've just remembered another, the day dad died someone who had the measure of my attempts to rationalise it all said 'take some time to let your heart catch up with your head'.

That was so helpful to me in letting myself start to grieve which I hadn't done during his long and painful illness

My friends took me out for coffee and we talked about other things.
We chatted about past things and future and they didnt give me the pity look.