When a friend, colleague, or family member loses someone they love, the tragedy creates a moment that can define your relationship with them for years to come. How should you respond? Should you text, call, or visit? What if you say the wrong thing? How much contact is too much—or too little? These questions are natural, and the uncertainty they bring often leads people to retreat into silence. But silence can hurt more than imperfect words.
After my father passed away, I experienced both profound compassion and unexpected disappointment. In the midst of grief, I was stunned not only by loss itself but also by how differently people showed up—or didn’t.
The moment I received the news, I was overcome with sadness, shock, and disbelief. In the days that followed, the sadness became very difficult to manage.
But what surprised me most wasn’t the pain of losing my father—it was the absence of some of the people I thought I could count on. Friends and family I had supported through deaths, divorces, and hardships were not checking on my well being. Some sent a brief text and vanished. Others called once, didn’t reach me, and never followed up. A few never reached out at all.
It is natural to feel hurt and resentful if you have experienced this reaction. It is possible, though, that many people might not know how to comfort someone who is grieving or understand the importance of their role. They might worry about intruding, saying the wrong thing, or making the person sadder. There are other possibilities, too. Ironically, their avoidance leaves the bereaved even more isolated.
Through that experience, I learned what kinds of gestures truly help—and how easily any of us can offer real comfort if we try.
When someone loses someone they love, presence matters most. Reach out quickly, even if you don’t know what to say. A simple “I’m so sorry. I’m thinking of you” can make a difference. Don’t assume that because a week has passed, the person is “doing better.” Grief doesn’t follow a schedule. Keep checking in—regularly and gently.
Call them. If they don’t answer, try again later. If they say they need space, respect that, but don’t disappear entirely. Sometimes people don’t know what they need until you remind them that you’re still there.
Send something tangible. A handwritten card or letter carries a weight that digital messages can’t. After my father’s death, I received a book about grieving that arrived within a day. Reading it helped me realize that the emotions consuming me—though overwhelming—were universal, even expected. A flowering plant from a kind friend also meant more than I can express. I placed it beside a small memorial I created for my father, and it remains there still, a living symbol of care.
Listening is another powerful gift. Ask gentle, open-ended questions and let the grieving person talk—or sit in silence if they prefer. Accept every feeling they share without trying to fix it. Avoid clichés like “be strong” or “they lived a long life.” Such phrases minimize pain. What helps is genuine curiosity and empathy: “How are you feeling today?” “What do you miss most about them?” “Would you like to talk about it?”
If appropriate, suggest a support group or therapy, but only after listening first. What comforted me most came from friends who had faced their own losses and were willing to share them. They reminded me there is no timetable for grief, no “right way” to mourn. Hearing that normalized my thoughts.
Practical help can be equally meaningful. The aftermath of loss often brings an avalanche of tasks—planning a funeral, contacting relatives, sorting belongings, closing accounts. Offering to help with a phone call, a meal, or even advice from your experience can relieve real burdens.
The finality of death is shocking and disorienting. It leaves people feeling lost, bewildered, and longing for stability that may take months or years to rebuild. But consistent, compassionate presence from friends and family can help transform that pain into gratitude, connection, and peace.
People rarely forget who stood by them in their darkest hours. The flowers may fade, the calls may stop, but the memory of someone’s kindness endures. If you’re wondering what to do for a grieving friend, the answer is simple: show up, again and again, with sincerity. Your presence may not erase their pain—but it can remind them that love, even in loss, helps.
Kirschner's Korner 
Everything you are saying makes complete senses and I never knew how to help someone grieving until I was the one grieving. I feel so bad that I was not there for friends and family like I needed to be because I had no idea how to. I will always be present for family and friends now that I know how to help. Thanks!
Thank you. You make a very good point: Once we mourn our own loss, we truly learn how to be there for others in mourning.
Thank you for sharing this very valuable information especially while still raw from your own personal experience. I think we have all experienced those people in our life who drop out when we are in crisis. It is painful to have our loss compounded by a lack of support of friends/family/community and yet it it is such a common experience that one must self-examine: When, how and why did I drop out on someone in need?
I think part of generating compassion around loss is sharing stories about the person who has passed on. This creates another level of connection. You did this beautifully with your post yesterday when you shared photos of your dad along with all that he taught you. I don’t know you or him but I definitely felt some of your pain and also gratitude for the incredible soul he Is.
Thank you very much. I appreciate your note.
Reblogged this on Beautiful Remembrances and commented:
Simple gestures of kindness can mean so much at a time of grief. Today we share a post from “Kirschner’s Korner” as a helpful reminder.
Thank you for this Andrew. I wish I knew you better on a more personal level, because I have been where you are. Not just with my mom, but I had identical twin boys die in 2004. It was the worst time of my life. I got one card… But I was so angry that it didn’t matter at the time. What DID matter was a friend I had known since grade school called and said “it is God’s will.. You’ll have another baby” (I didn’t). And my other grade school friend who called from North Carolina and said “Sheree” and then just cried with me for many minutes. Just sat and cried with me. These are things I will never forget. I am not on Facebook since November, but you have my email. I would feel blessed to talk to you about this. I don’t want to put my phone number on here, but if you email me
Shereewolfe@earthlink.net
I’ll give it you.
I’m here. You HAVE been a great friend and mentor to all of us.
Thinking of you
Sheree
Hi Sheree,
Thank you for sharing your story with us. I’m so sorry to learn of your losses.
I sent you an email. I look forward to speaking with you.
I appreciate your note.
I too experienced exactly all those things. I still go to support group and there is where I found the answer..its not by suggesting to others what to do in case it happens ..its about accepting that people are not going to behave the way you want them to or how you would treat them..they are themselves and you are yourself. My best friend didtn come to my moms funeral, she didnt call and when she did , she avoided it..people who havent lost, will not get it, its that simple and we must not have expectations on them because we will be disappointed ….I struggled with this for quite a while but thru therapy, this is the answer. And this topic comes up quite often. But like you said, focus on the ones that are there to help you through. The thing is , we are really the only ones that can make it through the darkest of times.
thank you for addressing this topic
Thank you Stephanie. Indeed, it is not time well spent trying to figure out why some people are not present in our time of need. I suggest moving past it as quickly as possible since it’s not a good feeling. A person in mourning has plenty of other issues to handle. It is insightful though.
Thank you for taking the time to write.
This is very hard for me, Andrew. I lost my mom in Feb. last year. The morning after I said goodbye to her, my uncle took his own life. They were the two constants and my very best friends throughout my whole life…..we three did everything together and my mom was my whole life. I struggle every day. I can’t even look at pictures, it only reminds me of what I don’t have anymore. I am in counseling, but mostly, I have to stay in the very second I’m in. If I think about tomorrow, or next week, or this summer, or next year, I start having anxiety because I don’t know how to get through one more day. It appears to me that many people are scared to say anything to me for fear that I will break down (and I have actually asked them at work not to say anything to me for that reason) and many people just don’t want to be around anyone who might rain on their parade and I don’t say that in an ugly way, I just think that people think about you for a moment and move on with their lives. I said all of that to say this, Andrew- I am where you are, my heart hurts for you, I am thinking about you. And if you want or need to just talk to someone, send me an e-mail…..maybe we can help each other.
Thank you Teresa. I’m sorry you are in such pain. I’ll be in touch.
something I do want to share, if any of your losses are from cancer, there is a wonderful place called Gildas Club..its founded by Gilda Radner from SNL who died of ovarian cancer. She wanted to create a place where people affected by cancer can go..There, people fighting cancer, people beat cancer, those affected by someone with cancer who have lost someone to cancer can go. They have a bereavement group that I have been attending since my mom died 2 years ago . I didnt go at first..it took me more than 7 months suffering in silence and alone before I went. It helped tremendously. I too didnt want to go anywhere, i did nothing, my house fell a part around me, I coudlnt work…there was no joy left for me in my world, how on earth could I be happy again?
I am certainly not normal..none of us will ever be normal again..just adapted to the new normal..I still have grief attacks..I still cry but I am living, something my mom would want me to do and Im trying to be happy, something I know she wants for me.
I would certainly try a group, if one doesnt fit just right, try another ..Gildas was a good fit for me.
Thank you Stephanie. Gilda’s Club is a special organization. We held a few events for the South Florida location when I volunteered with Hands on Miami. My thoughts are with you. I’m glad you found comfort at Gilda’s.
Thanks for sharing your wisdom with us, Andrew. It’s often very hard to know the “right” thing to say or do at difficult times like these, so your advice is very much appreciated. Thinking of you and wishing you peace.
Thank you Christine.
Andrew- Thank you for this post! I’m so sorry for your loss and even though I don’t know you personally, my heart breaks for you. I can’t really say I know how you feel, but I went through something similar recently. Last year, our then 19-year-old daughter was diagnosed with Stage III ovarian cancer. She underwent two surgeries and then 12 weeks of chemotherapy. It was a very difficult time for our family, but luckily she is in remission now and is doing well. However, during that time of her illness, I was shocked by some of our so-called friends’ and family’s reaction. Like you, people that I thought were close friends and family were noticeably absent. This hurt deeply. I’m still struggling with it. I’m trying to forgive. I know that some people just don’t know what to say or do and so they choose to just not do anything. Or perhaps they think that we have plenty of support, that we don’t need them? I wish at the very least that they would have said that. You know, “Hey, I just don’t know what to say or do, but if you need anything….” When I see these people now, it’s hard not to think about how they weren’t there for us. But like you, I’m just trying to focus on those family and friends who were our rocks and endless sources of love and support. I’m so grateful for them. You’re in my thoughts and prayers and I wish you well.
Thank you for your kind note. I’m sorry your daughter endured such a difficult experience.
Continue to focus on the people who were present in your life. You have the right idea.
There will be many people who don’t want any contact while grieving. As I mentioned, if someone expresses they don’t want to talk or someone senses it, we should definitely allow them their space. In the absence of those scenarios, however, I recommend everyone reach out and do so on an ongoing basis.
I appreciate you taking the time to write to me and share your story.