Mrs. bee & I are friends with a couple whose 16 year old daughter was killed in a horrible car car accident Monday night. We are going to the visitation tonight, and I really wish I could say something comforting. I know nothing will ease their pain at this time, but any suggestions on what may be helpful, or more importantly, what not to say would be appreciated.
If I might make a suggestion, saying “We’re here for you” is a very good thing to say, but only if you are truly willing to be there for them. Sometimes grieving people have some pretty intense needs that it can be hard for other people to deal with, so others withdraw, and the grieving family ends up feeling abandoned.
Aside from being there for emotional support, find out if they have any immediate, practical needs you can help with, like child-care for any younger children, or cooking some meals that can be frozen and easily reheated. Also, don’t be afraid to initiate social contact with them in the future. They probably won’t be up for big parties any time soon, but small gatherings or movie nights can be a godsend for people who feel like their entire lives have been redefined by their tragedy.
However, if you don’t feel comfortable being involved in their lives and grief on that deep a level (and there is nothing wrong with that), just saying “We are sorry for your loss” is always appropriate.
The simplest expression of sympathy is probably all that is needed right now - “We’re very sorry for your loss and if they’re is anything we can do to help your family through this time, please let us know.”
/grieving parent hat ON/
GrizzWife and I had twins, boy and girl, delivered on Oct 03, 2000, nine weeks early, after a complication-filled pregnancy. Both babies were doing wonderfully in utero. Unfortunately, our daughter lived only three days. GrizzCub is doing wonderfully well.
Grieving parents sometimes go through this process with a brave front and remember nothing of what happens in the days between death and burial, or even for days or weeks thereafter. Others become super-sensitive to all of their surroundings.
If I can offer any advice to you, it would to be supportive, helpful and courteous; without being clingy.
Words such as “I’m sorry for your loss”, “We’re here for you” and “If there’s anything we can do” all help. But make sure that you’re sincere. When we were asked “Is there anything I can do?” after our daughter’s death, we politely declined but kept the offer active by replying “not right now because things are a little crazy, but I’ll keep your offer in mind if that’s okay.” We’ve called in a few of those “offers” and it’s helped us greatly.
But DON’T say things like “she’s in a better place now” or “I know how you feel”. Unless you’ve had EXACTLY the same type of tragedy happen, you do not know how they feel. I did have people say that to me and follow with “I lost my mother a few years ago”. While I empathize with the loss, they’re not the same. No one who has to suffer the death of a loved one wants to have their grief “standardized” by having others tell them that they have felt it too.
That having been said, this axiom helps…
“Grief shared is lessened. Joy shared is multiplied” and
“Keep it simple”.
/grieving parent hat ON/
GrizzWife and I had twins, boy and girl, delivered on Oct 03, 2000, nine weeks early, after a complication-filled pregnancy. Both babies were doing wonderfully in utero. Unfortunately, our daughter lived only three days. GrizzCub is doing wonderfully well.
Grieving parents sometimes go through this process with a brave front and remember nothing of what happens in the days between death and burial, or even for days or weeks thereafter. Others become super-sensitive to all of their surroundings.
If I can offer any advice to you, it would to be supportive, helpful and courteous; without being clingy.
Words such as “I’m sorry for your loss”, “We’re here for you” and “If there’s anything we can do” all help. But make sure that you’re sincere. When we were asked “Is there anything I can do?” after our daughter’s death, we politely declined but kept the offer active by replying “not right now because things are a little crazy, but I’ll keep your offer in mind if that’s okay.” We’ve called in a few of those “offers” and it’s helped us greatly.
But DON’T say things like “she’s in a better place now” or “I know how you feel”. Unless you’ve had EXACTLY the same type of tragedy happen, you do not know how they feel. I did have people say that to me and follow with “I lost my mother a few years ago”. While I empathize with the loss, they’re not the same. No one who has to suffer the death of a loved one wants to have their grief “standardized” by having others tell them that they have felt it too.
That having been said, this axiom helps…
“Grief shared is lessened. Joy shared is multiplied” and
“Keep it simple”.
Thanks all, especially Grizz for the advice. That’s part of the problem I’m having, is that I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid. I’ve sat here and tried to imagine what they’re going through, but there’s no way in the world I can. And selfishly, I hope I never do.
If you’d really like to do something for the couple, make the request specific. Saying “If there’s anything I can do, let me know” rarely works. Offer to cook dinner, take care of the lawn, run errands, or whatever else you think they may need. Say something like “I know yard work is furthest from your mind right now so I’d like to take care of it for you this weekend. Is 9am OK?” works much better. If food is your thing, offer to bring dinner over on a specific day and time. If the offer is declined, then you can offer the catch-all request above. Being on the receiving end myself, the specific offers were much more helpful than the catch-all offers.
I couldn’t possibly agree more with Grizz. I’m not a parent, and I never have been, but I did lose my very best friend when she was just 17. It was a car accident, like the OP. And I was with her parents through the whole thing.
Added to that, don’t say things like “She would want you to be happy” or anything that assumes what the dead would want/feel. It might just be me, but I always got really pissed off when people said that. References to God, Heaven, “better places” and “His devine plan” are bad, IMO. I know my friend’s parents couldn’t imagine a better place for their daughter except right there with them, at home. I know it’s been said, but keep it simple. The less you say, the less likely you’ll be to say “something stupid”.
I also like the idea of offering specifics. People suffering such a deep loss aren’t going to know what they need, so suggestions are good.
My 22 year old sister was kiled in a car wreck when I was 13, so although I don’t have direct experience as a parent, I think I know what helps.
TALK about the kid and share in the grief. Bring up good times - ‘She was so beautiful, I remember the camping trip we all took together, and how funny she was when she snuck up behind me and put that frog in my shirt. I can’t believe she’s gone - what a horrible thing to happen.’ or something like that. Don’t go on and on, but do acknowledge the child and show your grief. Don’t grandstand, and do give the parents some time to talk. This is especially important as time goes on. I found that most people avoid the subject at all costs, and in the year or so after my sister died, I wanted to talk about her. I wanted to remember her and talk about what she meant to me. It was hard to find people who weren’t extremely uncomfortable with that.
Also, remember the child long after the event. Birthdays and the anniversary of the death are important dates to remember, and send a card or make a phone call. It’ll help, trust me.
I am a parent, and like GrizzRich, I speak from having been there. I, too, didn’t like being told people knew how I felt, what my daughter felt, or how God felt about the whole thing. I did appreciate being told that prayers were being offered for me.
Many things people might helpfully say do in fact come true, but that doesn’t mean you want to hear them. I did have more children, and I am very happy. But it’s hard to imagine being happy and, while in the depths of grief, being told you’ll one day be happy just seems like an insult.
But as someone else mentioned, people respond in different ways. A friend of mine also lost a child; she took a leave of absence from work. I buried myself in work. I read incessantly (more than usual) in order to occupy my brain with something, anything, other than my devestation. Maybe others wouldn’t respond in this way. Intense activity helped ME cope.
Send a card on the child’s birthday. Tell them you remember her, next year on the aniversary of her death. These events always sneak up on me; I am perplexed as to why I’m in a low-grade depression til I recall the date.
Oh, and I had lost my father a few years prior. I didn’t like being told God wasn’t going to give me more than I could handle. I already felt he had and felt resentful.
My sympathies for each of you who have experienced loss who’ve posted here (and those just lurking, too). Life is very, very tough sometimes.
When my brother passed away, someone at the funeral told my parents that everything would be okay now because the funeral was over. She also said that now life would move on. When my mom told me about this, I thought, what stupid things to say. You don’t just put your pain your pocket.
My dad never really recovered from my brother’s death. David was his first born. The one thing we always did tho was talk about David. We kept his memory alive. It wasn’t an intentional thing where we “had” to talk about him. We just did.
I agree with thewhiz who suggested you find specific things to do. Here are some options:
*Bring dinner
*Handle the phone (a lot of people will be calling and flowers and food may be delivered–it’s helpful when friends come over and take care of all that stuff so the family can be secluded if they want or simply not be interrupted).
*Walk the dog
*Clean the house (company is coming)
*Pick incoming family up from the airport
*Pick up drycleaning (or get suit cleaned if needed for services)
*Buy stamps
*Drop off clothes to the mortuary
*Grocery shop
*Make some phone calls to notify people (obviously it’s not your place to call close friends, but there might be other calls you can make)
Make direct offers so the family doesn’t HAVE to ask. They might not even think about what they need doing until you ask. Rallying during tragedy is what people do. It will make you feel less helpless, too.
CanadianSue said this in a round about way about her brother, so I thought I would elaborate. My boss at work lost his 17 year old daughter in an accident last summer, and what he and his family seemed to need the most was someone who would listen to them talk about her without getting uncomfortable. It all depends on how the person chooses to deal with their grief, but if that is what they seem to want to do, if you can do so without being awkward, just be there and listen to them talk about her.
Maybe it goes without mentioning, but also under “Things Not to Say” would be phrases along the lines of, “You still have X amount of children” if she had brothers/sisters, or “You could always have more if you really wanted”. Believe it or not, people have said these things to my brother when they lost their stillborn baby girl. I think it was just the awkwardness of the situation and people not thinking through what to say like you are doing, superbee.
I think the suggestions to take the initiative and help where you see a need are the best. There’s a reason behind the tradition of bring food to the home after the funeral…no one has thought about cooking or eating most likely. Even bringing a casserole or lasagna to be put in the freezer will be appreciated. Your kind actions will be remembered long after any flowers you might have sent.
Having gone thru the experience (twice), one extra thing I can add is to go and visit again in 2 or 3 weeks - there is a big rush of visitors in the first week or so, but then it thins out very dramatically as life goes on; which it does, of course, for everyone else; but that;s the time that the realisation of loss kicks in - that the grievers have to get on with life and cope with the loss as well and (usually) no one there to help them.
We too lost an infant. He wasn’t with us long enough to get many photos to remember him by. A dear friend went out of their way to contact everyone who might have a photo or two and collected copies of them into a small scrap book for us. I can’t tell you what that tiny book has meant to us over the years.
::sniff:: I think I’m going to go look at it again right now.