“You don’t need solutions. You don’t need to move on from your grief. You need someone to see your grief, to acknowledge it. You need someone to hold your hands while you stand there in blinking horror, staring at the hole that was your life. Some things cannot be fixed. They can only be carried.”
–Megan Devine, author or “It’s Ok That You’re Not Ok

“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Words meant kindly, gently, and with genuine care. So why do they feel like empty words? Why do they make us roll our eyes? 

“I can’t even imagine.”
Words meant genuinely, words meant with concern, and words meant with love. So why do they feel like a slap in the face?

Silence. No words at all.
Perhaps meaning someone is there for you, but doesn’t know how to show it. Perhaps they are just giving you space until you’re ready. So why does someone saying nothing feel even worse than saying the wrong thing?

Words. Why are words so hard to stomach during loss? Why do words make grievers feel on edge? If you’re loss was anything like mine, after keeping it between family only for a few days, my dads passing was leaked on Facebook by someone other than family. The questions started coming, the and the, “I’m sorry for your loss,” messages started rolling in one after another. So, as a family we decided to make a post on Facebook, as the heartbreaking loss needed to come from family. Some of the people I was “closest with,” I didn’t even personally tell. This ruined friendships. This almost ruined others. But looking back, I hardly remember the days (into weeks, into months) following the day I lost my dad and it didn’t occur to me to reach out individually to people. The people who’d been in touch with me within the last 5 weeks leading up to my dads loss knew, and all the energy I found in myself was simple replies to those who asked.

After the announcement was made, hundreds of “I’m sorry’s” and “I cant even imagine’s” came swarming in. While I knew in the back of my mind they were meant well, they cut deep. I rolled my eyes at messages, ignored others. Some made me mad. Others made me cry until I could not breath. And some, I longed to know why I never got a message or call from at all.

Yes, I have looked back to make sure I have replied as best as I could, and let those who reached out know how much it meant, even if I did not have the mental capability to reply at the time. And while words hurt, I will forever be grateful. Looking back, I was not mad at THAT person behind the message. But words after a loss are weird…they mean everything to a griever, and of course we are thankful, but also, can break us.

But, here is the one of the only messages that I remember in depth receiving, because it stood out and spoke volume, it spoke a sense of understanding: 

“There are no words that will comfort you right now. You will be flooded with tons of “I am so sorry for your loss,” yet the words seem empty and almost pointless. Only a small amount of people will truly understand your devastation. Talk to those people when you’re ready. 

Your emotions will be all over the place. Anger, sadness, confusion, all come out at different times or all at once. And there are other times you might feel completely fine. You might feel guilt for how you’re feeling or uncomfortable in your own skin and you won’t know how to express anything. It’s okay to be lost. I haven’t truly dealt with my feelings yet because I’m not ready to, I cry randomly and you may be so over crying after awhile, and everyone says you have to let it out. No you don’t, not if you don’t want to.

All that said, I want you to know I am here for you, I feel every ounce of your pain for you, my heart is with your heart. Anytime you need anything, don’t hesitate to call or text or hell, write a letter if you want.”

This message still brings tears to my eyes and a sense of gratefulness that I will forever hold to my heart. My beautiful friend who experienced a loss of a parent only a short time before me, sent this to me. One thing I have found is that those who have lost, give their condolences differently than those who don’t. My dear friend, who is my age, had also recently lost her father, and even though I had not seen or even spoken to her in over a decade, her message was the only one that actually felt like someone understood. And now, she remains someone I connect with, someone in my grief support system, and a beautiful friend who came back into my life under heartbreaking circumstances, but in her words, she “brings me a sense of sanity I didn’t even know I needed.”

Now, let’s back track a minute. This isn’t to say I’m angry at people for reaching out. But words during loss, even if meant with the best of intentions, is a rocky road for grievers.

I’ve tried to read a lot grief books, but mostly I pick them up and put them down before page 5. Again, because words suck. I do not want someone telling me how I should feel or what “stage of grief” I should be at by now. But I recently read a book called “It’s okay that you’re not Ok,” by Megan Devine. I highly recommend in 100 ways for those grieving. I love the way she doesn’t make me feel like I have to be at a certain place, and honestly, while sometimes her use of words hits home a little too close…it’s been helpful. In chapter two she discusses this very topic of words:

“Intense grief is an impossibility: there is no “making it right.” Words of intense comfort just grate. “Help” from other people feels like an intrusion. Attempts at connection or understanding come across as clueless or rude. Everyone has an opinion about how you should be grieving and how you can make this better for yourself. Platitudes about coming though “even stronger” and admonishments to “remember the good times” feel like a slap in the face.”

So, WHY does this all hurt so much? For me, when someone tells me to remember how long and beautiful my dads life was, I instantly think, But I’m only 28 and even if he lived to be 110, it doesn’t make it easier. Remember the good times people say. But now we will never make more. Make him proud/live his memory…How can I do that when I miss him so much I can hardly breath? Or my personal favorite, telling me he wouldn’t want me to be sad. While I agree with this entirely, how can I not be sad? I’ve lost my best friend, my hero, my everything...And honestly, the only person I want to talk to about how sad I am, and the only person who could really make me feel better, is my dad.

For me, I honestly am at that point where although words hurt, “the wrong words” mean more than no words at all. I try to be aware that everyone has their own lives, that some people do not actually know how to respond to someone grieving, etc. But it’s only been 4 months, 1 week, and 1 day since I lost my dad and I sometimes feel as though it has been forgotten. I often feel as though I am expected to not hurt anymore, and that just because I am functioning my best at work, waking up each day, etc I do not need to be checked on or asked how I am doing. However, if I was asked that question, how would I even answer? (Another topic for another time) I also think a lot of people are afraid to bring up my loss for fear of upsetting me, but what most people don’t understand, is I am dying to talk about my dad. I will use any excuse to bring him up. I would love nothing more than to talk about him. For other grievers, I have found a similar theme that we are dying to talk about our loss…that is all we want. I don’t need someone to say the right thing…simply asking me how I am doing with my grief, or asking me to share something about my dad is all I could ask for.

At the end of the day, I think the whole “actions speak louder than words” things, really comes into play with grief. I found these charts that I really liked, and I will close this blog with them. There are many other similar charts (can simply google: words of comfort during grief, how to help someone grieving, etc) that I would suggest looking at if you find this is helpful…If you are reading this because you know someone who is going through a loss, perhaps you can appreciate this chart from that viewpoint. If you are grieving, and anywhere close to where I am at in your grieving process, this can help understand what words trigger you, and how you could help your friends/loved ones know what hurts you and what helps you.

I challenge you to reach out to your closest support system, and say, “Thank you for being there for me. Do you think once a week you can ask me how I am doing with my grief. I appreciate you.” I did this with my significant other, although he truly asks me and supports me in so many wonderful ways already, as well as reached out to 2 friends to let them know how much I appreciate them. I found this helped, a lot. But I am still hurting, I am still grieving..sometimes publicly, sometimes in silence. I have felt really hurt the last couple weeks, and felt alone even when in a room full of people. I miss my dad so much in scarers me sometimes. And while I have tried the last few days to reshape my thought process and remember that no one will understand my pain, and no one can read my mind, I know at the end of the day…no one could take away the pain except my dad, and that is the reality of grief.