For Caregivers

Lists lists, people keep asking us for a list, what to say, what not to say, to prevent that awkwardness.  Many of us come from cultures where we didn’t talk about death and dying, we weren’t taught about how to bring comfort to those who are hurting.  Many of us are not encircled by a faith tradition with its rituals that provide structure, sacred text, and hymnody for grief.  No wonder it’s so hard.

But even if we have all of that, grief and loss, well, they still hurt.  And humans bump into each other and make mistakes.  And everyone needs something different, at different times, and there is no predicting.   So, mistakes happen.  They will happen, do happen, even among the most experienced of us.  But, and, so does grace.  And love.  And forgiveness. 

So the best words of wisdom we can offer is, try.  Reach out, make a connection, even a clumsy one.  We need each other, human to human.  Trust that love and grace abound.  Love wins. 

And, because it could help, here is a list.  It’s compiled from best practices from authors and thinkers and people with experience. 

Some Nice Things:

Just your presence is a nice thing.  Actually, it’s more than a nice thing.  It’s the most important thing.  Your presence, just being, listening, without trying to fix anything, may be the hardest thing of all.  But also the most loving.  Do that.  Lots of that.  Just be you.  Near them.  Gently. Over time.

Offer practical help, as opposed to asking what they need.  Instead of: “If there is anything I can do, let me know.”, say: “Can I bring you a lasagna for your freezer?  I’ll drop it off on Tuesday.” 

Mirror their language.  If they say, “Someone I love died”, then you say, “I heard someone you love died.”  If they say, “Someone we love passed away”, then you say, “I heard someone you love passed away.”.

Send a card.  Attend the funeral.  Bake a casserole.  Stop by with a latte.  Send a random text of that flower you saw when you were walking the dog.  Gestures don’t have to be big or overthought.  Spontaneous.  Little.  Silly even.  Kind.

Think practical.  Take the kids on a play date.  Mow the lawn.  Buy groceries.  Give doordash cards.   

Ask if they want to talk about it.  Maybe they want to talk about what you used to talk about instead.  But ask, because, maybe they do want to talk about it.

Follow their lead. Maybe they want to box up their loved one’s things, or sit in silence, or look at old pictures and cry, or go golfing, or watch that old movie that always makes them laugh. Maybe you had plans to do one thing and they changed their mind at the last minute. Be ready for anything.

Put on your calendar the significant dates – birthdays, date of diagnosis, date of death, anniversaries.  Those are likely to be times they will need extra support.

You can help them remember to care for their body.  Grief is a full body experience.  Sleep is crucial.  So are vegetables, lots of water, exercise, time outdoors.  Help them keep their physical body working with them, not against them.  They may need reminding.

Encourage storytelling.  They may need to tell the same stories over and over, that’s ok.  Settle in.  That’s part of the process.

Grief is not a sprint, it’s a marathon.  Remind them you are thinking of them as the weeks and months go by.

Perhaps avoid:

Any sentence that begins with “ At least . . .”.  It’s not your job to help them see a bright side.  It minimizes what they are feeling right now.

Theologizing.  This includes talk of where their soul or spirit may be now, or who it may be with, even if you both come from the same religion.  Or how this death might fit into God’s plans. Within religions there is great diversity of belief, even within the same church, or family. Even the same person’s thoughts about life after death can change from moment to moment.  What may be comforting to you may not be to them.  What may be certain to them at one time they may be questioning now.  There is just so much you don’t know.  This is not a teaching moment, it’s a listening moment.  Make no assumptions.

Trying to make sense of anything.  Sometimes there is no sense to be made.  There may be no silver lining.  Or there may be.  But now is not the time to guess what that may be. 

Talking about how upset or awkward this is making you feel.  Of course you can be sad too, but be conscious that they have enough to do tending their own emotions, they don’t need to take care of yours too.   

Offering advice. This isn’t the time to correct or fix or talk about your Aunt Carol who had the same thing happen to her but then tried that herb/podcast/yoga retreat and it all got better. 

Change how they feel. As it hard as it is to see someone in pain, you are not there to alter their experience for them. Not to cheer them up or change how they think about it or bring some sudden insight which will make it all feel better. They need to go through the process the way their heart and mind and soul need to, at the pace they need to. You are there to just be. Sit alongside. Witness. Love.

So that’s your list, surely it’s incomplete. But really . . . just trust. Trust yourself. And love. Love and connection.

You are enough.

Breathe, and be.

They are lucky to have you.