How to Walk with a Friend in Grief

*I am honored to have Michelle share her wisdom on helping a friend grieve. Her story is precious to me. You can read more from Michelle here.*

“I am convinced that learning the delicate art of grieving comes mostly through being ministered to by mature people during our own times of grief and through years of practice.” ~Carson Kistner

When I was in college, my roommate’s mom passed away very suddenly. A mutual friend and I ended up going home with her for the week and stayed for the wake and funeral. My roommate stayed home for another couple of weeks to be with her family. I walked into my room and literally fell into bed. Exhausted. I had been with a family who was shocked, devastated, grieved, heartbroken and wrecked. There was no way around it. They were wrecked. It was awful. I kept thinking, “This is the worst thing in the world.”

When my roommate came back to school she was looked at strangely. Everyone was kind, but they were weird. It was the elephant in the room. Everyone wanted to ask, but not listen. Everyone wanted to know, but no one understood. One evening at dinner, we were all just about done eating, and I looked down the table and there’s my roommate talking with another friend. The friend had asked how she was. She asked details. She asked what had happened. My roommate told her. Dumped it, really. In minutes, she was angry. Upset. Agitated. I knew this couldn’t continue, so I walked over said that the conversation was done and we went back to our room. We got there and she collapsed. She yelled. Cried. Wept. The whole time I thought to myself, “I have no idea what to do. I can’t do this.”

Fast forward years and years, and our lives went separate directions. I was at the hospital with my husband holding our son who had just passed away. Shocked. Grieved. Broken. Devastated. Wrecked. We had no idea what to do and we felt like we couldn’t do it. It was a whole lot bigger than us.

When we got home the notes and letters poured in. Everyone’s condolences. Card after card. Email after email. The cards and notes were full of words that should be comforting, but sometimes fell short. It’s such a hard thing, to write a note to a grieving mother. There is only one true Comforter during such a dark time. His words are the only balm to a tired and broken heart.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 (emphasis mine)

The best words from a friend which is the most comforting is no words at all. Just to tell your grieving friend, “I have no words” speaks volumes to them in their times of pain. Our favorite card still sits in the box with my son’s things and it says, “…we have no words….we’re praying.”

Our son’s service was over and all of the cards we received were on the kitchen table, and I told my husband, “If you want to read them, you better read them. I’m throwing them in the trash soon.” I really was going to. I couldn’t stand to read them. It hurt too much. Too many words and too much trying to fix something that couldn’t be fixed. I was only going to save the one card.

The most comfort came from knowing friends’ prayers for us were going up to the Comforter. Even if our friends didn’t have words for us; they had prayers. Romans 8:26-27 says,“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” (emphasis mine)

Friends were willing to take care of practical needs, meals, grocery shopping, house cleaning, and child watching and just listening when we were ready to talk. Random notes and emails that simply said, “Thinking about you today and praying for you” are so helpful, but not just in the short term in the long term as well. Three, six, nine, twelve months after the loss, the notes, emails and prayers are so helpful. Just the knowledge of someone praying gets a grieving person through the day. I had a friend who randomly set up meals for us for 10 days six months after our loss. It was such an amazing blessing and a comfort that we were thought of, cared for, prayed over and loved.

As the years go by, there are friends who remember our son’s birthday. They offer to babysit our children so that my husband and I can go away for the weekend or for a date. We have a friend who commemorates our son on her blog each year. We get emails and texts as the day approaches from friends and family. When I see those words from friends remembering, my heart swells, because I know that our friends and family love us, but also our son even though they never met him.

A walk with someone through grief is a long one. It’s not a short walk around the block. It’s a marathon, but longer than any marathon you’ve ever run. If you commit, commit. Be there. Listen to your friend when they are ready to talk. Most of all you can be on your knees for them and love them where they are.

Over the years other friends have lost their babies and we’ve walked a hard road together, and we’ve become dear friends. We all never expected the hard road of grief when we met, but then we were grateful that there was one who had walked before us who had experienced the sadness and the pain.

Going to social gatherings like church and parties and play dates can be burdensome for months. The term, “Elephant in the room” has never become more accurate. People are interested in the circumstances surrounding the loss of a child; however the questioning and suggestions of how it could have been avoided is not appropriate. I believe that people are kind and that their intentions are well intended, but it’s a delicate balance of respect for the parents and trying to fulfill ones curiosity. Their own guilt is already enough to deal with and when people ask for details and bring up solutions on how fix something for the future pregnancies or children is hurtful. It discredits Jesus’ sovereignty and it offers no comfort but guilt upon an already heavy burden.

Grieving mothers, the loss of your child was not your fault. Your body did not mess anything up. You did not miss the “sign” to get to the hospital sooner. You did nothing wrong. There will be a struggle in future pregnancies with fear. It will be a constant and difficult one, but Jesus will hold you and whatever the outcome He will be your ultimate Comforter.

As children begin to come after a loss of a child, it’s easy for outsiders looking in to assume that a mamma’s heart has been made whole again. After all, a child just came to replace the one that passed away right? No. If a mother has had five children and one is with Jesus, she is a mother a five. Forever and always. That child may not physically be in her home, because he/she is in the best Home ever, but she is still that child’s mother. A mother will always yearn for her child. A mother will constantly want to be with her child. She will see that empty chair at the table and the one missing in the yard while her other children swing and dig in the dirt for years to come. A mother is never “over it”. The heart bleeds hard, and the wound is deep. It closes and scabs over time, but it is never fully mended. A mother learns to bare the scar and to trust Jesus with the rest of her children.

Over the years of healing, a lesson learned has been recognizing pride in pain. There have been many times that I have discredited someone’s suffering, because I felt like I had been through more than they had. I told my husband on a number of occasions, “If I can buck up and deal, why can’t they?!?” This was my pride. The idea that I was suffering more than anyone else and that my pain was worse, caused me to burn many bridges, because I compared my pain to theirs thinking that I was worse off than other friends that were hurting. We cannot compare our pain to others’ pain. We live in a world full of pain and it is different for everyone. When we begin to compare our pain we lose our empathy and sensitivity for others who are suffering and we are unable to comfort and show love.

As friends to the grieving, love them where they are at. Be kind and gracious. Be generous and sensitive. Be slow to speak and quick to listen. If you say something that could be interpreted wrong, apologize and move on.“Bear one another’s burden and so fulfill the law of Christ.”(Galatians 6:2) When we can bear one another’s burdens, emotionally and practically, and walk with a friend through their loss you’ve made a commitment to them, not just in being a friend, but in being a FRIEND. You may end up worlds apart over the years, but you are closer then sisters. There is uniqueness and a closeness that comes with walking through grief and suffering with a friend who has suffered. It is a hard task, but it is one with an amazing amount of benefits. When you are Home, you will see the child of your friend and you will hug them because you love them because you love their earthly family and you will weep with joy when you witness your friend being reunited with their child. It will be a joyful day. A very joyful day.