What words brought you peace during a time of loss, such as a death, layoff or divorce? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
“I’m sorry your mom died. I know exactly how you feel.”
But, in reality, she didn’t. No one could. Not even my brothers, who are a full decade older than I am.
I’ve navigated the deaths of my father, best friend, and most recently, my mother. I’ve grieved the dream job lost when it was given to someone else, and the moments when breast cancer held me back from the life and timeline I imagined. But I’ve also supported hundreds of others through their own grief as a counselor, hospice manager, and end-of-life doula.
Across these spaces-clinical, spiritual, and personal- I’ve witnessed the same pattern: most people want to be helpful and supportive, but don’t know what to say. And so, they default to any number of platitudes that land as soft as salt on the open wound of one’s grief.
The older we get, the more grief finds us. But so, too, does the chance to comfort others.
Say this, not that
I’ve since lost track of the countless, well-meaning platitudes thrown my way since my mother died in the fall of 2024. They were eerily similar to the ones I heard when my father died over a decade before, as well as my best friend in 2017.
What is most fascinating to me isn’t that these types of phrases are like that song you hate that is played at the top of the hour, every hour, on the radio, that’s stuck in your head. But rather, the fact that while we all will experience grief of some kind in our lifetime, many of us remain ill-equipped to know how to respond to the news of a death or loss experienced by someone we know.
In those moments filled with lack of sleep and almost drunken exhaustion post-funeral, in the times I’ve snapped back with an attitude and a rolled eye at those platitudes, I’m met with the proverbial, “I didn’t mean to offend you!”
“Well, you did.”
I then calmly, though yes, still with an attitude, explain that intent does not erase impact. As I reflect on the obligatory condolence cards (as lovely as they were), text messages, and “I’m sorry for your loss” Facebook posts, I’m reminded that it’s not entirely their fault. No matter how equipped we are to manage day-to-day struggles, the gravity of being Black in America, and relying on community to see us through, the words that would bring true solace and comfort escape us still.
The not that list
You may have said or heard a few of these common phrases:
“At least they’re in a better place now.”
This can imply, especially for children, that their loved one prefers to be in that “better place” instead of being with them on earth. OUCH! It also assumes someone’s spiritual or religious beliefs, which can be dishonoring to their understanding of the human experience.
“Time heals all wounds.”