Sitting with someone in their tragedy without trying to fix or make it all better is uncomfortable. Fear is usually what keeps people from being more present.

I don’t know what to say!

Just say,” I have no idea what to say, and obviously I can’t fix anything. But I want to be here. I can listen.”

So one dad told me a story about having lost a son to suicide. His best friend was there a lot. While I was standing next to him at a grief walk, the friend stood next to the bereaved father. I asked the dad about his son. When I did, his best friend promptly walked away.

The bereaved dad stopped, took a hiccup of a breath, and got emotional.

I waited patiently. He didn’t continue his story but said, “He does that all the time. When I talk about David, he just walks away. It drives me crazy.”

I said, “That would hurt my feelings, to be honest. But how do you feel about it?”

He said, “It does hurt my feelings. Most of all, it makes me mad!”

I agreed it would likely make me mad, too. And then I reminded him that the friend doesn’t know what to do.

I asked him if he might be willing to talk about this with his friend. Or maybe it would be easier to tell someone like his wife and have her talk to him. His response? “Hmmm. I’ll think about that.” While he didn’t want to talk with his wife, he did begin to name other potential adults in their circle he could tell would then share this with his friend.

Sometimes, when we are in the midst of grief, we need to confide in another person and share what we want. No one will figure it out by osmosis, and not everyone is the same.

I then told him that I thought it was fear driving his friend’s escapes. I told him the best friend was afraid he would cry or lose it, and he didn’t want to do that in front of another man. Wouldn’t that look weak? Or unsupportive?

He probably also feared he wouldn’t say the right thing

Or he was simply distressed that he couldn’t fix any of it, and it was easier to remove himself from the orbit of the conversation.

Another friend described how everyone acted after his father died from a drug overdose in 1973. It was less common, and no one, I mean no one, came by to pay respects. It was like the family was ostracized. Even the minister made an awkward perfunctory visit and couldn’t wait to get out of there.

My friend said that his family had been waiting for the minister, for words of faith, as it was one of the few visitors they got. But his jackrabbit visit and exit left them all more bereft than ever.

We all have stories of no one calling for months, or someone in our address book whom we never hear from again. Do you want to be that friend or loved one?

Sitting with someone in their tragedy

It is going to feel awkward and uncomfortable. At least at first.

You might tell yourself.

  1. They don’t need me
  2. I might say the wrong thing
  3. I’ll just remind them of the tragedy
  4. I might get emotional, and that would be awful.
  5. I have no idea what I can do to help
  6. It will feel awkward, and I hate feeling that way

So I’ll address each of these.

  1. They don’t need me– Oh yes, they do. More than ever. Maybe you make popcorn and watch rom-coms or sports and just sit, or maybe they talk about it some, and you just listen actively.
  2. I might say the wrong thing- You might. So admit your fear and then ask your friend to tell you when you make insensitive comments because you’ve never been through this, so you can’t always know what is”the wrong thing and since you are an emotional toad frog, it’s quite likely you’ll say something stupid.” Say you want to know and are willing to learn. And you want to be the best support you can be, even if it means making mistakes.
  3. I’ll just remind them of the tragedy- Trust me, they are up to their ears thinking about their tragedy every minute of every day, and if you are present, then there is some distraction. Nonstop aloneness is not good for anyone. Connection deepens relationships. I have never forgotten who was there for me. So you won’t remind anyone of what is constantly on their mind.
  4. I might get emotional, and that would be awful– Why? It shows you care for someone. It shows you are human and not some AI robot.
  5. I have no idea what I can do to help– Think of practical, intentional ways to help. They have to eat and do normal things. They may have a pet that needs care, they still have to go to the grocery store, and haul kids somewhere. Can you mow a lawn? Cook a meal? Walk together? Pray together? Watch a ball game or a rom-com? So when you make a suggestion, be intentional. “Your lawn needs a haircut. I cannot fix anything in your life but I can cut grass. And I would love to cut yours at 11 am on Saturday. Is that good?”
  6. It will feel awkward– It probably will. But those few seconds or minutes won’t last forever. Work through it. Confess that you are and feel awkward. It always helps to be out with it. But don’t avoid someone in their hour of greatest need because you are afraid of weathering a few seconds or minutes of discomfort.

There is but one way to learn

That is to do it. Your presence counts.

You acknowledge your fear, sit with it. Take a deep breath, call or text, and ask if it’s a good time. Or offer a plan. Take something by. Write a card with something about the person they lost if it was a death. (We love stories most of all!)