The River of Grief: Dos and Don'ts

We're now in the club no one ever wants to join -- the "lost a loved one club," the "dead parent club," the "club of people marked by deep and lasting grief." Call it what you will, we're different than we were back in August. And the passing of my mom is now several weeks behind us, but I'm learning that grief is not a river you cross and come up on the other side. It's a river you're thrown into and stay in -- forever. And sometimes the waters are shallower, calmer. Sometimes they rush with a torrent so strong it feels like we'll never come up for air. But regardless, the river has become our new normal. So sink or swim, we're in it for the long haul. 

But we've learned a whole lot in this river, and there's a lot that I think can impact our life and ministry if we let it. It seems a bit inevitable that Joe and I will end up in ministry in some way. Perhaps Joe will pursue the path to pastoring, or perhaps we'll be normal people involved in the local church. Either way, we want to help people in their darkest hour, just like so many have done for us. For fear of forgetting (and in hopes of helping people help people), here's a hard-won list of dos and don'ts when trudging alongside people in the river.

1. Don't say "let me if you guys need anything."

This seems like a blessing and is almost always well-intentioned, but the reality is that no one will ever "let you know." People in grief don't want to be an added burden. They aren't going to reach out. If you feel tempted to say this, consider sending a gift card instead. Picking up something from the store. Watching their kids. Mowing their yard. 

2. Do show up and meet needs.

I can't tell you how many people we had drop off meals, money, and gift cards unannounced. A team of girls from church deep-cleaned our apartment. My parents had a team of people remodel their entire home. People ran errands, bought groceries, mowed/landscaped, took out the trash, and paid my parents' electric bill. They didn't say they were doing it. They didn't boast about it. They showed up and did something. 

3. Don't make comparisons.

I know it can be tempting to compare someone's suffering to suffering you have experienced, but no two trials are the same. It can actually drive a greater distance between you and them as you try to equalize grief. For example, nothing frustrated me more than when people compared my young mom's traumatic twelve-week-cancer battle to the passing of their 90-year-old grandma. Of course we are sorry about your grandma, but how much longer did you expect her to live? These can often be more harmful than helpful.

4. Do be present, listen, and weep with people.

I remember every single person in the room on the day my mom passed away. I will for the rest of my life. They sat with us, reminisced, cried with us. They were present. They showed us we didn't have to walk alone. I had many friends come over to simply listen. Many friends cried more than I did at her funeral. None of these people did anything extraordinary, but they showed up. That is probably the richest way to love someone: show up for people. 

5. Don't avoid checking in because you "don't know what to say" or "don't want to bombard them."

I can't think of a single time when I said, "I wish my friends would stop bombarding me." I can think of a time when I said, "I wish that friend would have reached out." Even though the river of grief lasts forever, the deepest part of the valley is oftentimes very momentary. It's good to be bombarded for the moments in that pit. It's what helps bring you out of the pit. And if you say you're sorry, you love them, and you're here, you're not going to say the wrong thing.

6. Do keep checking in. 

Like I said, the river is forever now. I will never get to hug my mom again on this side of Heaven. I am so thankful for the people who remembered the one-month anniversary of her passing and reached out. I am thankful for people who sent meals weeks after the funeral. I am thankful for the "thinking of you...still" cards, calls, and texts. Life goes back to normal for many, but our normal is new. The longer you check in amidst the new normal, the easier the river of grief will be.