help grieving friend

09/07/2021

3 Ways to Support 9/11 Survivors 20 Years After

How can you help and support 9/11 survivors 20 years after the 2001 terrorist attack? If you know people whose lives changed forever that day — people who lost friends and loved ones and health — let them know you’re aware of their private grief as the world commemorates their public loss 20 years later.

If you think 20 years later might be too late to say or do something, think again.

Remember how travel changed after 9/11? Public outcry, grief, and reactions rose all over the world. Policies and practices shifted post-9/11, causing radical changes that still seem inconvenient. That’s just just one aspect of how public life still feels the impact 20 years later.

Now, think about the personal, private impact. The families and friends of those who died on 9/11 (and because of 9/11) underwent far greater grief and upheaval in not just one area but all parts of their lives. For these survivors, the 20th anniversary of September 11, 2001, isn’t just about what happened when four hijacked planes inflicted devastation. It’s about what happened when the survivors lives were devastated.

So please, reach out. Acknowledge their loss. Then ask and listen to what they need. You can’t fix anyone’s grief, but you can let them know you care.

Peaceful but somber scene where tall bird faces right toward near and far sets of U. S. flags at Woodlawn Cemetery in Orlando, Florida.
Tall bird faces right toward U. S. flags on graves at Woodlawn Cemetery, Orlando, Florida (photo by Teresa TL Bruce).

First, Reach Out, Even If It Seems Awkward.

What if you haven’t spoken to your bereaved friend, relative, former colleague, or neighbor in a while? What if you aren’t sure whether you should say anything about their 9/11-related loss or not? What if you’re afraid it will be awkward?

There’s one simple answer: Reach out anyway.

Supporting survivors isn’t about you and your discomfort. It’s about extending compassion to help others.

It takes almost no effort to send a text, private message, or an email that says, “Hey, I’m thinking about you.” While such a simple message won’t convey specific sentiments, it will show the person they are cared about. It also extends a bridge toward deeper communication.

If you have a closer, more comfortable relationship with the person, consider reaching out in a more direct way with a phone call, an invitation to meet for lunch, or a plate of cookies dropped off with a hand-written note.*

Of course, whether yours is a closer friendship or a more distant acquaintance, you could even send an old-fashioned letter in the mail at any time now or in the future (because grief doesn’t disappear when an anniversary passes). It will cost you very little — postage, paper, and a few minutes — but it will show the recipient tangible proof that someone remembers.

Second, Acknowledge Their Loss.

Well-meaning people sometimes hesitate to speak of their friends’ dead loved ones, afraid that to acknowledge their loss will somehow remind survivors to feel sad again. But 9/11 survivors and others who grieve haven’t forgotten those who died. (Unless your friends have severe memory impairment caused by age, illness, or injury, you won’t remind them because they haven’t forgotten.)

If you remember the names of the ones who died, use their names. After you’ve reached out, consider acknowledging their specific loss. Try something like this:

  • “I remember that your son [say his name here] died on 9/11. I’m so sorry.”
  • “I’ve been thinking about your best friend [say her name here] as the anniversary of 9/11 approaches. I know you miss her.”

If you don’t remember the names, that’s okay. You can still say “your husband,” “your cousin,” “a friend,” “your co-workers,” etc.

You can even be vague if you need to: “I remember that 9/11 impacted you personally. I’m sorry.”

If your friend survived the traumas of 9/11 with altered health, don’t hesitate to reach out, but do be sensitive. Let your relationship guide how much you say:

  • For co-workers, casual friends, and acquaintances, keep your acknowledgments general. “Hey, I know this is a tough time of year. You’re in my thoughts and prayers.”
  • For closest family members and family-by-choice friends, it might be appropriate to speak more specifically. “I’m sorry your lungs still ache from what happened on September 11.”
  • If in doubt, say less, but do say something. “This is a hard anniversary. I’m here if you want to talk.”

Third, Ask and Listen.

I could have listed Ask and Listen as separate ways to support 9/11 survivors, but they belong together. Be considerate and thoughtful about what you will ask and how you will listen.

Be Specific Without Being Nosy.

Most people who are grieving don’t like hearing the general question “How are you?” Complex emotions make it an impossible question to answer. (Learn more at “Better Questions than ‘How are you?’ — Part 1 — Why.” ) Show you care by asking specific yet not too personal questions. These ideas might help you brainstorm your own:

  • “Would you like to share some of your memories about [name the person] from before 9/11?“
  • “Would you like to hear a few of my memories of [name their person]?“
  • “Since this is a tender time for you, would you prefer extra space and privacy, or would you prefer company? I’m available to act as a buffer or hang out. Whatever you need.“
  • “Do you have a preferred organization or cause I can donate to in honor of [the name of their person]?” (See Bonus Ways below.)

Listening Might Be the Hardest Part.

You’ve reached out. You’ve acknowledged their loss. You’ve asked a meaningful (but not nosy) question. Now stop talking.

Listen.

Don’t try to “fix” their grief.

Don’t judge that they should be “over it by now.”

Don’t point out ways they’ve been strong or how well they’ve “moved on” (unless they ask you to).

Listen to what they say about their loss and about how it impacts them today.

Respect What Your Grieving Friend Says, Especially When It’s Hard to Hear.

Listen to body language (in person or via video chat) as well as words and tone.

  • They might not want to talk about it now (and might even snap at you if emotions are running high). That’s okay. They’ll know you made an effort, and if they feel a need to talk to someone later, they’ll know you were willing.
  • Or, they might need to talk and talk and talk and even cry to someone who will LISTEN. So, be sure you’ve set aside time to let your friend talk without rushing, shushing, or pushing him or her toward any conclusion. Let them decide how long is enough.
  • Listening means hearing out, nodding, mm-hmming, being there. Listening does not mean “fixing” anything, confronting or challenging assertions, or rebutting what’s expressed.

Grief, even 20 years after, tends to erode filters, so you might hear things you wouldn’t have expected from your bereaved friend. That’s okay too.

Bonus Ways to Support 9/11 Survivors

If the three ways listed above seem too uncomfortable or if you don’t know anyone personally impacted by the events of September 11, 2001, you can still do something meaningful on Patriot Day — or any day.

Donate to Reputable Charities.

Many nonprofit organizations benefit 9/11 survivors and could use contributions. But do due diligence. Research carefully to make sure they will use your funding in ways you approve. (The Better Business Bureau’s Give.org is one place you can check.)

Volunteer for a Good Cause.

Choose a service organization that helps others, and spend an hour (or more) in lending a hand. If you already have a favorite organization, great! If not, sites like JustServe.org can help you match your time and abilities with volunteer opportunities and community needs in your area.

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*With cases of COVID-19 ongoing, please maintain best practices of doing no harm. Follow the guidelines of your local health officials if you offer in-person support to grieving friends or acquaintances.

04/09/2019

Returning after Grief (and Pavement) Smacked Me in the Head

Hello, again. You might have noticed the July to April gap in new posts on What to Say When Someone Dies. Years ago, I first started writing content for this grief support website within three days of my husband’s unexpected death, although I didn’t know at the time that’s what I was doing. Even surrounded by the thick, heavy fog of shock, I recognized that some folks’ well-intended words landed like a blow to the gut or slapped me in the face.

Slap in Your Face unintended commentary assume you meant well, surprised face, embarrassed face, grief

On the other hand, a few — sadly, too few — friends’ and even strangers’ words and gestures gently reached my hurting heart through comforting compassion. I wanted to remember all these words — the helpful and the harmful — so I opened a spiral notebook and scribbled them as best I could.

ink on notebook paper, list how to help mourner, Teresa TL Bruce
Days after I started the “Slap in Your Face” list, I wrote this on the page before it to remind myself how to treat others who were grieving (Teresa TL Bruce, TealAshes.com).

As I slowly (oh, how slowly!) learned to live with my grief, I networked with widows and widowers of widely varied backgrounds, cultures, and nations, some in their senior years but many younger — even decades younger — than you’d likely expect. At the same time, I spoke at length and developed cherished friendships with bereaved parents, children, siblings, and others who mourned departed dear ones. Imagine my surprise at how many of us, while mourning diverse losses, experienced similar distressing visceral reactions to the trite, time-worn platitudes (“he’s in a better place”, “at least they didn’t suffer,” “her suffering’s over now…”) meant to offer comfort.

meant well p 5, grief, TealAshes.com

Likewise, regardless of our backgrounds, we appreciated the thoughtful outreach of those whose words acknowledged and validated our pain.

It took nearly three years to work up the courage to share what I learned. While my husband’s death felt recent enough to keep fresh my recollections of raw grief, the merciful yet relentless passage of time allowed me a self-preserving sliver of distance. Not only that, but in most areas of my life, I’m a deeply private person. Opening up about grief’s impact on me still sometimes feels like opening my curtains and inviting the world in to witness my vivisection.

Deaths of family members and friends from December 2017 through March 2019 forced me too many times to again ask myself what to say when another someone died. New bereavement reopened wounds of mourning earlier losses. These new losses forced me to focus on how to comfort those closest to the center of each loss while grieving myself.

As much as I wanted to post here, I held back. I ached with grief, but I recognized mine wasn’t the primary loss of each surviving spouse, parent, child, or sibling. And what pain I owned felt too newly raw and too personal to publish.

For the last nine of those sixteen months, after hitting my head on the street, I’ve also been learning about managing symptoms of post-concussion syndrome. Consequently, I’ve kept my screen time focused on work for clients more than writing for myself. (Stay tuned for a post now in progress comparing the effects of grief and concussion. In true writer fashion, I tried to capture details while inside the ambulance and the MRI machine. I’ll admit those injured mental notes weren’t as coherent as I’d like.) I’m still not fully recovered, but I’ll keep working toward it.

As this website approaches the completion of its sixth year of offering ways to help grieving friends, coworkers, and family members, I remain grateful to you for reading. I’d like to thank those of you who’ve followed this content from the beginning (How I Learned What to Say When Someone Dies) as well as those of you who’ve browsed my posts only on occasion as needed. I appreciate your trust, and I’m always touched when you take the time to comment.

I hope you’ll continue to visit and share as we move forward with helping those who are grieving — and as I move forward with preparing an accompanying book.

Thank you for reading, and thank you for helping your grieving friends! — Teresa TL Bruce

07/26/2018

What to Say at a Funeral or in a Card

Against medical advice, I attended my friend’s memorial service. Most of it.

I left the sanctuary during every hymn — had to — and watched the video tribute through the window. My concussion-injured head (a long, unrelated story) can’t yet tolerate many sounds, including, apparently, music.

Even though my doctor ordered me to “strictly limit all social interaction” while recovering, I needed to attend. It felt important to show up in support of my friend’s family.

Despite my concussion, I also wanted to gather with others who’ll miss my friend, but my desire was secondary to offering his widow, son, and other family members the tangible presence of one more person who cares about their loss.

Having said that, I don’t recommend foregoing doctors’ orders for a funeral service. If you’re possibly contagious, stay away — for now — because the last thing someone grieving needs is additional trauma from already grief-stressed immune systems.

But if you’re physically sound and geographically near enough, show up. If you live too far away or you’re too incapacitated to attend the funeral, send messages of support.

What should you say at a funeral? What should you say in a message if you can’t attend the memorial service?

Keep condolences short and simple. “I’m sorry” can be enough. Acknowledge your awareness of the huge loss your friends now face. Let them know you are thinking of them and, if appropriate to your beliefs and theirs, praying for them.

Share positive memories of the dead loved one. If the circumstances surrounding the memorial don’t seem appropriate, write such anecdotes and send them later.

Offer specific assistance. Even the most sincerely offered “Let me know if I can help” seldom helps someone overcome by the raw, overwhelming nature of grief. When my husband died, I realized people who said this meant it, but I had no idea what I needed. Weeks later, when I began to understand what would have been helpful, I couldn’t bring myself to follow up with them. On the other hand, I could say yes (or no) to targeted offers like “Please let me bring your family dinner Wednesday” or “May I take the kids to the park tomorrow afternoon?” or “I’d like to help you with laundry or dishes or other chores of your choosing around the house Saturday morning if that time works for you.”

Avoid preachy platitudes like “he’s in a better place” or “God must have needed her” or “it was their time to go” or “heaven’s a happier place now with them there.” It’s never wise to use clichéd words as if you’re trying to make anyone else’s losses seem OK.

Avoid saying “at least.” In almost every case, this phrase minimizes rather than validating the breadth and depth of grief.

It’s absolutely all right for the mourners themselves to use these phrases — or any other words they choose — as expressions of how they feel. Even if you disagree with a mourner’s assertion regarding their loved one’s status in the afterlife, showing up in support of grieving friends is not about you, so don’t argue. At all.

Finally, it’s never too late to reach out because there is no “finally” in supporting friends who mourn. Death’s impact on surviving loved ones does not end with the funeral or even after a year or two. While you’ve got the funeral program or obituary notice in hand, make a few notes in your calendar — the person’s birth and death dates, their wedding or other anniversaries, children’s birthdays, etc. — and reach out to your grieving friends in advance of those dates. Many bereaved individuals silently struggle in the days leading up to such commemorations.

The most intense shock of new, raw grief often erodes as the most upfront support from friends and neighbors also wanes. Reaching out to your grieving friends in the months (and years) after the funeral can offer much needed support and encouragement.

06/29/2017

Think Before Recommending Books and Movies after a Death

I recently finished a book* several friends and associates recommended during the first two years after my husband died. Recommended might be too mild a word; they practically insisted I read it, yet something held me back, and I’m glad I waited until now, nearly seven years into widowhood.

I can almost imagine why they recommended this compelling work of historical fiction. Its vivid language, with three-dimensional settings and characters, made me feel I’d traveled into another era and community. It was a great read, yes — but it was a terrible recommendation for someone actively grieving.

“What were they thinking?” I asked myself — aloud — at least a dozen times over the three days while I read it. “What were they thinking?” At times I even exclaimed in all-caps volume that startled my dog. “WHAT were they THINKING?”

When I reached the end of the book, I sobbed. I’d shed a few tears within other pages, but these “The End” tears accompanied long, high, keening sobs like I haven’t released in years. Yes, years.

I can only begin to imagine how traumatized I’d have felt if I’d read it back then, while I was yet adjusting to widowhood and only beginning to develop ways of coping with my grief.

In the days after I finished reading, I couldn’t stop wondering: What were my friends thinking when they recommended this beautiful, breathtaking, heart-filled, heartbreaking story to me as a new, actively grieving widow?

A) Maybe the story of this character losing a loved one and falling utterly apart in the process will make my friend feel better about falling off the deep end herself. INCORRECT.

B) Maybe the story of this character’s tragic loss(es) will make my friend feel like her loss isn’t so bad after all. INCORRECT.

C) Maybe the realistic bereavement in this book will make my friend forget all about her own mourning. INCORRECT.

D) Maybe if my friend cries over these characters she’ll stop crying over her husband dying. INCORRECT.

Maybe they just weren’t thinking.

Almost as elusive as the answer to that question I asked (and re-asked) is the answer to a quieter, more introspective question: What was I thinking? Why didn’t I read it when they recommended it to me? Why did I wait?

I knew these nonfiction books focused on grief when I chose to read them, and I therefore found them cathartic — especially Melissa Dalton-Bradford’s “On Loss and Living Onward” and “A Grief Observed” by C.S. Lewis (photo by Teresa TL Bruce, TealAshes.com).

Many people find reading next to impossible while mourning. Grief distracts them too much for the concentration reading requires.

But reading anesthetized my distraught nerves and temporarily muted my pain. I read 286 books of fiction and nonfiction (including plenty of titles about grief) in those same first two years after my husband died. While my head lived in the pages of other writers’ stories, I laughed, cringed, empathized, and feared for them. Reading set aside my distress long enough for my body and brain to recharge.

Reading (and writing) while grieving saved my sanity. Sometimes, mindlessly watching TV shows or movies did too. But those offered troubling issues too.

About a month after my husband died, some of my daughter’s friends, meaning well, invited her to join them for a movie night. That was a fantastic gesture, and she’d have gladly attended to distract herself from her grief over her father’s death … if they hadn’t chosen The Lion King, in which the young protagonist is traumatized by the death of his father. (Many Disney films present a minefield of grief triggers for children, of all ages, who’ve lost parents.)

Watching Monk because I knew the main character suffered from the loss of his spouse (and because he also suffered from OCD, as did my late husband) let me channel my bereaved emotions in a metered, measured way. Watching a show (or reading a book) in which I didn’t expect to face a character suddenly mourning a loved one threw me into shoulder-shaking, gut-churning paroxysms of grief.

Fiction in literature and film can offer cathartic release of emotions, particularly when the grieving person seeks it out. Sometimes, a good cry over a fictional character might momentarily lighten one’s own bereavement. But it can trigger cascading meltdowns in mourners, especially if unexpected similarities smack them in surprise.

When inviting grieving friends to join you in a movie or urging them to read a book you enjoyed — and you should do these things as a way to offer support — please think carefully about the content. If characters die or suffer other significant loss, choose something else to share, or alert your friends ahead of time so they can decide whether to proceed.

___

*It’s not the author’s fault this book pushed so many of my personal grief-trigger buttons. And I don’t want to make any of my friends who recommended this particular book feel badly for recommending it so many years ago. For these reasons, I’ve chosen not to name the title or writer here.

 

 

 

 

01/02/2017

Grief after Holidays

You’ve packed lights and ornaments away, hauled your tree to the curb for recycling (or tucked it back into a box), and started (or at least outlined) your battle plan for losing holiday pounds. “The holidays” are past. Whew! It’s time for a return to the security of normal routines … unless you’re grieving.

Emptied of adornments and social obligations, the post-holiday season sometimes leaves mourners feeling more bereaved than before. (photo by Teresa TL Bruce, TealAshes.com)

Emptied of adornments and social obligations, the post-holiday season sometimes leaves mourners feeling more bereaved than before. (photo by Teresa TL Bruce, TealAshes.com)

If your friends are mourning recent losses, the emptiness of bereavement may surge in the post-holiday “normalcy” of unadorned surroundings and cleared social calendars.

Have you ever unwillingly started over? Imagine waking up one morning to discover your contact lists, calendars, medical records, project files, programs, passwords, accounts, data, and personal property were all gone — vanished. Multiply that by a thousand or so, and you might glimpse the disconcerting reset death writes into the hearts and minds of the bereaved. (If a loved one’s or business partner’s death left unknown account passwords or nontransferable titles, this revision upends emotional, mental, and practical matters.)

When my husband died, our family patterns shut down without warning. The agonizing rebooting left no backup files, and those of us left behind faced unfamiliar operating systems written in a foreign language not compatible with our hardware.

In the earliest months after, I observed that others’ lives continued exactly as before. I even recognized myself as more-or-less alive, so in fragmented slivers of my shattered self I (eventually) acknowledged that life continued, sort of. I didn’t want (or need) to hear “life goes on” from those who meant to comfort me. Life for my family was forever altered — our lives did NOT “go on” as they had before.

When loved ones die, “normal” no longer exists. Please, don’t tell a mourning friend “life goes on,” because for their loved one it didn’t; for your friend, life now goes differently.

In the past year, many of you neighbors dropped off casseroles, friends attended funerals, and well-wishers sent notes of condolences to coworkers, family, or even passing acquaintances who lost loved ones. Well done. Thank you for reaching out to comfort and console your grieving friends and coworkers. (On a personal note, I’m forever grateful to those of you who have comforted me and my family by mourning alongside our trials and triumphs through the years.)

Now, whether you did or didn’t step up at soon after your friends’ loved ones died, pardon me for sounding bossy, but GET BACK TO WORK at it. (Please.) Your grieving friends may need your support more now than they did in the earliest days, weeks, and months.

For friends whose loss(es) occurred recently, the blurring fog of shock probably obscured transitions from the old calendar year to the new. As they reawaken to the disorienting world around them — life as they did not know it before — caring gestures of friendship and concern may help them reorder their surroundings. They won’t be ready to rebuild yet, but gestures of kindness (whether messages of ongoing awareness or invitations to interact) will help newly bereaved friends begin to feel the ground under their feet, even if they aren’t yet strong enough to stand upon it.

For friends approaching anniversaries of loved ones’ deaths (whether in the first year or beyond), such demonstrations of caring and commitment are just as important. People need to know their beloved departed ones aren’t forgotten. Let them know you’re aware it has been a year (or two) since their dear ones died. Make note and mention them on birthdays their loved ones won’t be present to celebrate.

Let your friends know you respect their grieving as acknowledgment that love lives on, even past death.

___

(This post is a revised version of 2015’s Grief Reboots after Holidays.)