Understanding how to support someone who is grieving requires more than just good intentions—it demands practicing emotional intelligence and taking kind actions that the grieving person can see and experience.
As someone navigating the complex journey of grief after losing my brother Robert, I've experienced firsthand what truly helps and what doesn't. Whether you're looking for ways to support a grieving friend, family member, or colleague, these insights may help you provide the meaningful support they actually need during one of life's most challenging transitions.
Understanding Grief's Complex Journey
Grief isn't linear. People don’t just “get better with every day.” It's a deeply personal, often overwhelming experience that doesn't come with a roadmap.
My brother Robert passed away suddenly and unexpectedly a couple of months ago. Now I'm entering what feels like the weird, awkward post-loss phase. He was autistic and disabled and in retrospect, the center of our family dynamic.
Now that my family is past the initial wave of sympathy (which is reasonable) but that doesn’t change the fact that my life has this huge, gaping hole left behind by my brother.
I was a part-time caregiver for him, so he was basically the person I spent most of my life with and now the house is just…. quiet? With no schedules or daily rituals? For real? I teeter-totter between feeling like losing my brother was an event in the past and then suddenly feeling heartbroken all over again that he’s gone. The shock of not having him in my life every day has dissipated a bit, but I still miss him a lot.
Why I’m Writing This Post about Grief Support
I’m getting help from friends, a therapist, a lot of self-help reading, and medication. But I feel like there might be people out there who want to genuinely support me and perhaps others who are also going through profound loss.
I remember talking with Kat Vellos, the author of "We Should Get Together," about how to make new friends as an adult, and she gave me an amazing suggestion about making a “How to Be My Friend” guide that I could give to friends who may not know how to be my friend.
As strange as it may sound if you’re not super into self-help and emotional intelligence stuff, I thought the concept was brilliant.
I like explaining things.
I like being a good friend.
And I find that being open about my needs almost always enhances any of my relationships.
This blog post is my grief version of that idea. If you care about me (or somoene else who is grieving, depending on when you’re reading this), here’s how to support me in my grief.
What Grieving People Really Need (aka What I Need Right Now)
1. Words of Affirmation (But Make Them Specific)
Though the intentions behind the “Love Languages” framework are questionable, I find them helpful in narrating the ways I prefer to be supported by loved ones (platonic, mostly). I know from previous experience that during my very low moments, my brain defaults to lowering my self-esteem and repeating some of the harmful phrases that affected me as a kid. It flips the switch on “I’m a loser” mode, if you will.
I’ve found it helpful to straight up ask people who know me well and love me for a written message that tells me what you admire about me.
Keep in mind: this was was VERY awkward at first (because who straight up ASKS for compliments, right? It’s me.) but it nearly always works to pick me up and shake me out of my depressive funk.
So— tell me nice things about me, when you check on me. Remind me of my strengths, of the ways I've shown resilience. These aren't just empty compliments - they're lifelines that help me remember who I am beyond my grief.
2. Invite me to do specific stuff with you (but be patient if I decline)
Though you may mean well by it, telling me something like "Let me know if you need anything" unfortunately puts the emotional labor on me when my brain is already pretty overwhelmed. Instead, keep it specific and give me options.
For example:
Invite me to do mundane but specific things. I have a lot of spare time now, and more bitter than bittersweet at the moment. I used to do a lot of things with my brother, and now there’s literally nothing to do or plan for.
I basically lost my “life partner” (the person I thought of every day and based most of my major decisions on) and “my kid” (since he required continual care, plus I had every intention of being his primary guardian later in life) at the same time.
So… I need things to do. If you offered to let me come with you grocery shopping or on boring errands, I’d be grateful. Let’s drop stuff off at the post office. Let’s check out the new store that just opened. Invite me to volunteer with you. Let’s go watch a movie or show.
Note: I might decline the invite if my mental health isn’t great that day, but please keep inviting me!
3. Support My Family (and Help Me Worry Less About Them)
One of my deepest concerns is my family's well-being. I like to support and care for other people (obviously) but it is REALLY hard to do when I’m grieving myself. It’s taken a lot of effort and therapy to not take an active part of everyone else’s bereavement process and just be okay with all of us grieving as adults, separately.
You can help me feel better about this strange, layered guilt by:
- Reaching out to my living family members to catch up
- Invite them for casual outings
- Take them to lunch or run errands together
- Make future plans with them and give them things to look forward to
- Being available to listen to them talk out things they can’t talk to me about
Basically, help share the emotional labor. We’re all “not okay” in our own ways, and doing our best. Also: please don’t judge any of us for how we’re acting right now. While we’re all relatively responsible adults, we’re doing through a lot and it’s bringing up old losses and traumas, and mental health is hard. Be patient and don’t judge or assume anything about any of our choices, especially right now. (I guess technically that applies at any point in life, because judgement doesn’t really help anyone. But it seems especially poignant right now)
In a nutshell: It’s helpful when someone who isn’t emotionally and personally involved in this loss spends time with us. You’d help me out more than you know if you showed up for any of my family members with lots of empathy.
4. Remember My Brother
Don't be afraid to ask me about my brother. Say his name. Share a memory. Post on the memorial page I made for him. Send me photos. Ask me what kinds of things he liked.
One of the worst side effects of losing someone you love is that people pretend they never existed, which (albeit unintentionally) passive-aggeressively dismisses the very real grief I feel.
In many ways, grieving my brother as an adult is a lot harder than grieving my mom, who died when I was 13. It’s more obvious that a 13 year old needs support when her mom dies. There was school to distract me. There were teachers who reached out.
But it might be easy to de-value or overlook how important a fully grown autistic and developmentally disabled man was to me.
I miss him so much, and it helps me to hear that other people miss him (or at least appreciated my relationship to him) too.
Grief isn't something to tiptoe around - it's a continuation of love, and I still love my brother.
5. Support My Creative Journey
I've been channeling my grief into art. You can help by:
- Buying my artwork, if you like it.
- Sharing my work with your art-loving friends. Tag them in my posts or just show them my photos on your phone when you’re hanging out.
- Offering genuine, specific encouragement about my creative process publicly. Post about me and why you’re cheering me on, and tag me.
6. Send me giftcards or money
Grief makes looking for work REALLY difficult. I was a paid caregiver for my Robert and lost my most steady form of income when he died. The unexpected loss of any income is always complicated, but whew, this is rough.
While I do have savings me to tide me over until the next chapter of my life reveals itself, I still live in this capitalist world with you and everyone else. And life costs money.
To my friends who sent me Door Dash gift cards and venmo money, you helped me more than you know.
7. Read books about proper grief support, especially what NOT to do
People don’t talk about death that much. Most of us don’t know what the “right” thing is to do or say when someone dies. Or we assume we can wing it based on personal experience or observation.
A quick internet search will show you lots of helpful suggestions to care for a grieving loved one. Take the advice to heart and actually implement what you learn. Pay extra attention to what NOT to do!
The book I found most helpful in dealing with my grief is Grief Works: Stories of Life, Death, and Surviving by Julia Samuel (affiliate link). It’s written by a therapist and tells lots of stories of different people grieving the loss of a loved one, whether they are siblings, parents, or children. The stories don’t all have a lovely ending, and I appreciated how realistic that felt. She includes helpful analysis chapters to talk about what’s actually happening from a medical perspective.
The subreddit r/GriefSupport has also been very helpful for me. I haven’t posted about my loss there, but it actually comforts me to read through everyone else’s posts about their loved ones dying and how awful they feel. It’s validating. And what also helps are the responses on each post, from people who get what grief feels like.
8. Stick around, because I will be grieving for a while.
If you have the capacity, and as long as it doesn’t cause you any harm or excessive difficulty, please keep showing up for people like me who are grieving.
Yes, showing up once makes a whole lot of difference. But the influx of meals, flowers, and people offering condolences (and, I’ll be honest, getting involved simply because they just want details about what happened) is hard to get through.
My timeline for recovering will take longer than your timeline to get over your shock at my loss.
Continuing to stick around while I fumble through the aftermath over the next few months shows me that you get what I’m going through and you understand what it means to be a real friend.
Keep caring beyond the initial timeframe, past when everyone else has “done their part” and moved on to let me handle this on my own.
You don’t have to be super creative, just keep checking in on me.
Actionable Checklist: How to Support Someone Who is Grieving (from my personal experience)
- Send me a heartfelt message that reminds me of my strengths and resilience (specific compliments only)
- Invite me to do low-key, mundane errands or activities (grocery shopping, post office runs, casual outings)
- Check in on my family members and help them feel supported
- Ask about my brother Robert - share a memory, say his name, show you remember him
- Support my creative journey by sharing my artwork or buying a piece
- Help me out financially if you can (gift cards, Venmo, etc. are lifesavers right now)
- Keep showing up months from now - grief isn't a short-term experience
- Be patient with me and avoid judgment as I navigate this complex loss
Final Thoughts and an Invitation
Grief is unique to each person. There's no universal handbook or process. But taking action and physically showing up for them will make a bigger difference than saying and sending nice words and prayers.
Supporting someone in grief is about showing up—consistently, authentically, and without expectation.
With love and vulnerability,
Rochelle
