A letter to grief

by Recover the gift

Hi Grief

You came to visit us again this week. You came in, uninvited, to turn our lives upside down. You took from us a daughter, sister, wife, mother, and dear friend. You leave us devastated, reeling, not knowing what way is up or where to turn. We want to make this deep pain and heartache go away. But Grief, I know that we can’t. You are here to stay, and we can’t chase you away.

I know you, Grief. You and I are not friends, but we see each other, often begrudgingly so. And over time we have learnt to navigate each other. Some things in life cannot be fixed, they can only be carried. And the loss of a loved one is one of those things. The depth of our grief is the depth of our love. Its because we had the privilege of love, that we must endure you, Grief. A heartbreaking trade off.  

Grief, people have been coming to me, asking for guidance on how to cope with you, for themselves and for those they see suffering. I know that there is no blueprint for navigating you. Each person’s experience with you is going to be different. Each person’s journey with you is unique, filled with unpredictable waves that threaten to pull them under. But what I do know is that society does not equip us to deal with you. Most of us are completely at sea, clueless, trying our best, but wandering in the wilderness.

Grief, our culture has treated you as a problem to be solved, an illness to be healed, or both. In the process, we’ve done everything we can to avoid, ignore, or transform you. As a result, when we’re faced with tragedy, we usually find that we’re no longer surrounded by people, we’re surrounded by platitudes.

When a person is devastated by you, the last thing they need is advice. Their world has been shattered. leaving them exposed and vulnerable. Inviting someone into that brokenness is a risk. Attempts to fix, rationalize, or erase their pain only deepen their despair. Instead, the most powerful act is acknowledgment. Simply say:

I acknowledge your pain. I am here with you.

There is no greater act than acknowledgment. It requires no special skills, only the willingness to be present with a wounded soul, and to stay present, as long as is necessary. The ones who helped were those who showed up and said nothing. In their silence, they said everything.

Over the years, I have learned a few things about you, Grief. From being a grieving child far too young, to being a grieving parent, the worst pain I have ever had to endure. I hope that by sharing some of these lessons, I might be able to provide some light – both for those walking with you in grief and those trying to support them.

• Acknowledge the loss – When you see someone grieving, even if you don’t know them well, acknowledge their pain. You are not “reminding” them of their loss—it is already ever-present. A simple recognition of their grief can provide immense comfort.
• Not knowing what to say is okay – In fact, there is no right thing to say. Saying nothing is the only wrong thing to say. “I am sorry” perfectly suffices! We don’t have to find something profound to say, just those 3 simple words are perfect.
• Don’t try to “fix” the situation or the person – This is human nature I know. We feel so deeply uncomfortable with the pain and suffering we see that we want to try and erase it. But grief cannot be fixed, it can only be witnessed. Simply sit quietly with them. Hold space for their pain without pressure or expectation.
• Small decisions can be overwhelming – Remember that when we are in the deep throws of grief, even making the smallest decision can seem too overwhelming. Instead of asking, “What can I do?”—just do something. Prepare a meal. Offer a helping hand. Reduce the mental load wherever possible. Even the simplest tasks can feel insurmountable in grief. Remember that we will all have different ideas about what might help or not, and how to show up. While we may not agree with what others might do, try to always be kind and gentle. We are all wandering in the wilderness, completely clueless most of the time!
• Say their name – Say our loved one’s name often. Just because they are no longer with us on earth doesn’t mean they suddenly cease to exist. Share stories of them.  It may bring tears, but it will also bring comfort.
• Our loss will change us forever. Be patient. The grieving do not return to their “old selves” after a few weeks. There is no “moving on” or “getting over it.” Loss is not a singular event— it’s the continuous loss that unfolds minute by minute over the course of a lifetime – it’s every missed moment.
• Certain days are harder than others. Birthdays and anniversaries of loss can feel like impending doom. Be especially gentle in the days leading up to them.
• Social situations can be difficult. The grieving may hesitate to join gatherings, unsure of who knows and how they will react. If you can, gently prepare others in advance. Understand that invitations may be declined, plans may change at the last moment, and that’s okay.
• Consistency matters. Keep showing up. Send a message, even if there’s no reply. Silence from a grieving person is not rejection—it is exhaustion. Even the simplest acts of life can take immense effort.

To the person comforting a grieving friend: It is ok if you don’t know what to say. You don’t have to try and “fix” them. Although your words can’t make their heartache better, your presence and stillness can help ease their loneliness.  Just show up. Listen a lot and say little. Understand that your loved one will be forever changed. Nurture them, love them, feed them, envelop them in kindness and patience. Remember that for them every day is a struggle and the best thing you can do is to be there.

To the person grieving: You won’t think it possible now, but you will get through this. Somehow you will have the strength to crawl along this dark tunnel, which seems to never end. There will always be a darkness inside you and around you, but as time goes on you will start to see and experience a little more light. You will not “get over” this, but you will learn to carry it. The pain may not lessen, but it will soften. In time, you will find moments of light amid the shadows.

When we are face-to-face with an undeniable sorrow that we can neither alter nor reverse, we’re given a unique opportunity to learn what many are (fortunately) spared. We learn about ourselves, the people around us, the potential of the future, and our undeniable strength. Grief gives us a resilience we didn’t know we had. Being able to live again, in an altered reality, doesn’t mean that we have forgotten the person, or love them any less. It means that we know that life is worth living. Our loved one would want us to live our best life, if for no other reason than in honour of them and the life they didn’t get to live.

And so, Grief – I see you. We carry on, despite you. Changed. Wounded. But alive. And honouring those who you took from us.