Often, life’s most difficult moments don’t provide any warning.
A sudden job loss. A wrenching heartbreak. A life-changing illness. The death of someone you love.
WHAM. One event can divide life into before and after.
And whether you’re the person experiencing the loss—or the friend, colleague, family member or leader standing beside them—there really isn’t a guidebook for what comes next.
I want to be clear from the beginning: I’m not a grief expert.
I’m a grieving mom and wife. I’m a grieving leader and coach. What I can share is what grief has felt like for me, what other people did that mattered enormously, and what I’m beginning to understand about grief support, emotional intelligence, resilience, presence and healing after loss.
This isn’t about getting over loss, forcing positivity, fixing your feelings or pretending things are okay when they’re not.
It’s about being true to yourself—and learning how to show up for others when it really matters.
When Grief Arrives Without Warning
In early December, my 90-year-old father-in-law received a devastating diagnosis and died unexpectedly within one week.
He had shared 30 wonder-filled years with my mother-in-law. We had the honor of being with him through that final week, including a very short stay in hospice.
But life doesn’t pause for grief.
Over the weeks that followed, our family stepped in to do all the practical things that had to be done. And we helped my mother-in-law prepare for Christmas—his favorite time of year, and hers.
Grief Piles Up
At the same time, we were saying goodbye to our beloved cat, Lucy.
Two months earlier, we’d learned that she had an inoperable mass. We loved on her, kept her comfortable and tried to come to terms with losing her. When the time came in mid-December, she passed peacefully in our home, surrounded by our family.
Grief didn’t arrive in a neat timeline.
It overlapped.
It piled up.
And strangely enough, ordinary life continued right alongside it.
There was online shopping and holiday crafting with my mom. A cherished visit with a cousin. The birth of our grandnephew and the joyful laughter of our grandniece. A treasured lunch with my oldest son. Family gatherings. Meeting our youngest son’s new girlfriend. Decorating our tree. Wrapping gifts.
And eating too many cookies.
When the Unthinkable Happens
Then, three days after Christmas, the unthinkable happened.
Our 28-year-old son, Parker, died peacefully in his sleep.
He’d lost weight over the previous year and had a variety of other symptoms. What we didn’t know was that he’d developed another autoimmune disorder, Addison’s disease. While he was undergoing testing, there was no indication that his body was unable to fight something as simple as a stomach bug.
It was unexpected.
Heart-wrenching.
And it divided our life into before and after.
What Grief Can Actually Feel Like
Friends who’d also experienced the loss of a child poignantly said, “This will be the worst night of your life”.
Those first days were filled with shock.
Fog.
An almost complete inability to make decisions.
Choosing clothes to wear felt like too much. Making and even eating food felt impossible.
A friend sent pizza, which my husband ate for a day and a half.
That may sound like a small detail.
It wasn’t.
And that leads to one of the most important things I’ve learned about how to support someone who is grieving:
Your Actions Matter More Than You Realize
People often don’t know what to do when someone they care about is grieving.
So they ask:
What can I do?
It’s a loving question.
But in those first days, answering it may require more decision-making than a grieving person can manage.
Instead, look for something helpful—and do it.
Some people simply sat with us.
Others took over our son’s apartment for days and helped his wife. Some stayed overnight with us so the house wasn’t so quiet.
One person folded our laundry and picked up takeout.
People sent flowers. Someone sent bagels and cream cheese, which became the first solid food I had eaten in two days.
Friends brought soup, casseroles, a roast dinner, cookies and a sandwich tray to feed the people coming to see us from near and far.
Another friend arrived with everything—home-cooked food, Kleenex and snacks—and then unpacked it all and put it away.
Our neighbors shoveled our walk and driveway.
People sent meal-delivery cards and heartfelt text messages, many of which we couldn’t answer at first.
And one friend continues to mail me small watercolor paintings of flowers every month. (See below for a link to a video showing her cards).
None of these people could change what happened.
They couldn’t fix our grief.
They didn’t know what to say.
But they could—and did—make a difference.
They just showed up.
And keep showing up.
Those little, quiet reminders weeks and months later that say I haven’t forgotten you matter, too.
What Do You Say to a Grieving Friend?
This is where so many of us get stuck.
You see someone for the first time after their loss and suddenly everything feels awkward.
- Should I mention it?
- What if they don’t want to talk about it?
- What if I say the wrong thing?
- What if I make them cry?
Here’s what I’ve learned from being on the other side:
You cannot make things worse.
The worst thing already happened.
Meanwhile, the grieving person may be looking at you wondering, Do they know? Do I have to explain what happened? Are we going to pretend this enormous thing isn’t here?
You don’t need the perfect words. They don’t exist.
Even saying, “There really are no words” is okay.
So is:
- “It’s so good to see you.”
- “I’m glad you’re here.”
- “You’ve been in my thoughts.”
- “I’m here for you.”
- “You’re not alone.”
Don’t let not knowing the perfect thing to say keep you from saying something.
That, to me, is part of emotional intelligence: being willing to tolerate the discomfort. To be uncomfortable. Not having the right words, but being willing to notice another human being and be present with them anyway.
Grief Support Doesn’t Mean Fixing Grief
There is an important distinction here.
Supporting someone doesn’t mean making them feel better.
You may not be able to.
And you don’t need to.
Sometimes the most compassionate thing you can do is allow someone to be exactly where they are without trying to move them somewhere else.
Don’t rush them toward gratitude.
Don’t require positivity. In the moment, there may be no silver lining.
Don’t expect them to “get back to normal.”
Sometimes emotional support is much quieter.
- Sit beside them.
- Bring dinner.
- Send the text even when the last one went unanswered.
- Say the person’s name.
- Listen to the story you’ve heard before.
- Remember an important date.
- Keep showing up.
What Peace and Healing After Loss Are Beginning to Mean to Me
I used to think peace and healing meant feeling okay again.
I’m learning something different.
Peace does not mean I’m okay.
It doesn’t mean I’m strong all the time.
And it certainly doesn’t mean I immediately found meaning in what happened.
Peace looks much quieter than that.
We’re still living through our first year of firsts.
We’ve made it through our birthdays and some holidays. We celebrated Parker’s birthday with a Survivor-style party with his friends. We’ve lived through the weekend he was supposed to get married. Parker and his wife had secretly married before he died, planning to surprise family and friends at the wedding celebration that was still to come. Learning afterward that they had already married was an unexpected gift in the midst of our grief.
And we’re approaching other dates we know will be difficult.
For me, grief and healing have looked like allowing sadness and letting the tears come when they come.
- Following rituals.
- Looking at pictures.
- Visiting Parker’s candle each night.
- Choosing presence over avoidance.
- Telling stories.
- Saying Parker’s name out loud.
But healing has also included allowing distraction. Watching a good series on Netflix. Not getting triggered before a meeting or conversation with a client.
It has meant making new memories. Traveling. Being with friends. Going to the movies.
Walking. Reading. Napping. Cooking. Sitting quietly.
And staying grounded enough to show up for the moments that still matter.
Resilience Doesn’t Mean Leaving Grief Behind
We often talk about resilience as the ability to bounce back.
I’m not sure grief works that way.
Profound loss changes you.
For me, resilience is learning how to carry what has happened while continuing to participate in life.
Grief and joy can exist together.
You can miss someone desperately and laugh with a friend.
You can cry and still have a productive day.
You can make new memories without replacing old ones.
You can experience moments of genuine happiness without betraying the person you lost.
What I’m learning is that peace and healing are not the absence of pain.
Peace and healing come as we learn to keep living with a hole in our hearts.
The Role of Choice—Without Forcing Positivity
This is where mindset and self-leadership enter the picture, but perhaps not in the way you might expect.
Choosing your mindset doesn’t mean choosing not to grieve.
It doesn’t mean denying feelings, thinking positively or convincing yourself everything happens for a reason.
It means choosing how you meet what is happening.
Sometimes the choice that creates the greatest value is to do nothing.
- To rest or sit quietly.
- To hold someone’s hand.
- To listen—or to talk.
- To write.
- To feel what needs to be felt.
- To do the next small thing.
- To celebrate the person you loved and will always love.
- To say yes.
- And sometimes to say no.
How Can I Create Value in This Moment?
Through all of this, I keep coming back to one simple part of The Central Question I use in my self-leadership work:
How can I create value in this moment?
Not tomorrow or next year.
Not How am I going to live the rest of my life without him?
This moment.
Sometimes the answer has been practical: Eat.
Sometimes emotional: Cry.
And sometimes: Be still.
There is a kind of emotional resilience in allowing the answer to be that small.
Because when life has changed in ways you cannot control, perhaps you don’t need to figure out your whole life.
Maybe you only need to choose the next moment.
If You’re Grieving Right Now
If you’re walking through loss, uncertainty, heartbreak or grief right now, I want you to hear this:
You’re not doing it wrong.
You don’t need to rush your healing.
You don’t need to be positive.
You can choose presence.
You can allow support.
You can keep living.
And if all you can do today is choose the next moment, what you’re doing is enough.
And If Someone You Love Is Grieving…
You don’t need special training or profound wisdom.
You don’t need to make their pain disappear or fix anything.
You don’t even need the perfect words.
- Notice them.
- Remember them.
- Feed them.
- Sit with them.
- Say the name of the person they love.
- Reach out again. And again.
- Just show up.
Because when someone’s world has changed forever, your presence may create far more value than you will ever know.
Keep choosing. Keep creating value. Even here. Especially now.
Resources
Watch the video: How to Support a Grieving Friend (When You Don’t Know What to Say)
If you’re walking through loss of any kind and could use some guidance, let’s chat. I’d love to hear your story.
If you’re looking for additional guidance on how to support a grieving friend and what to say when someone is grieving, I recommend Don’t Be Weird: A Practical Guide to Supporting Your Grieving Friends, written by a colleague, Dawn Nowlan, in the aftermath of losing her husband.
If you want to take a step in the right direction, click How to Make Your Life Work Better to get our Free Guide: The One Question That Changes Everything.
Photo by vidIQ
Kristin Clark is an Axiogenics LLC Partner and Certified Axiogenics Coach. She’s the owner of Insight Coaching LLC and co-author of Living a Richer Life; It’s All in Your Head, which she proudly wrote with her dad. Kristin has trained and coached hundreds of owners, executives, and leaders from diverse backgrounds, beliefs, industries, and professions in the pursuit of becoming more Valuegenic Self-Leaders.