Supporting Others Through Grief

Exercises & Practices

Is This Me?

These questions aren't a test. Just notice your internal response.

• When someone starts crying in front of you, do you immediately try to say something comforting — or can you sit in the silence and just be there?

• Have you ever avoided calling or visiting a grieving friend because you didn't know what to say — and told yourself you'd reach out "when you figured out the right thing"?

• Do you get frustrated or secretly impatient when a grieving person "isn't better yet" — especially after the first few weeks?

• Have you ever changed the subject when someone started talking about their loss because you felt uncomfortable?

• Do you think of grief as something that happens after a death — and overlook the friend grieving a career, a dream, a marriage that never was, or a parent who's still alive but emotionally gone?

• When a grieving person cycles back into anger or despair after a stretch of "doing okay," do you think they're going backwards — or do you understand that this is how grief actually moves?

• After the funeral, the meal train, and the first round of calls — are you still showing up in month two? Month six? At the anniversary?

• When someone is in pain, do you tend to share your own story of loss — because you need to feel useful — rather than staying focused on theirs?

Questions Worth Sitting With

These don't have quick answers. Sit with them.

• What losses in your own life have you never fully grieved — and how does that unprocessed grief affect your ability to sit with someone else's?

• When you try to fix someone's grief with words — "they're in a better place," "everything happens for a reason," "at least you had those years" — who are you actually trying to comfort: them, or yourself?

• Dr. Cloud says grief recycles like the flu — just when you think someone is through the worst, they throw up again. Are you willing to stay for the whole illness, or do you need them to recover on your schedule?

• What would it look like to be the person who remembers — who marks the calendar for month two, month six, the first anniversary — instead of the person who showed up once and disappeared?

• Are you able to recognize grief that doesn't look like grief? The colleague who lost a business, the friend who gave up on a calling, the parent whose adult child walked away?

• "Hold onto the essence while letting the form die." How would understanding this change the kind of support you offer — instead of trying to fix the loss, helping them name what to carry forward?

• When was the last time you actually carried part of someone's weight rather than standing at a distance telling them to be strong?

Growth Practices

Pick one. Try it this week. Notice what happens.

Week 1: Notice. This week, pay attention to your internal responses when someone mentions pain or loss — in person, on the phone, even in a text. Don't change anything. Just notice. What's your first instinct? To fix? To change the subject? To share your own story? To go silent? Track how often you feel the pull to make someone's pain go away rather than sitting with it.

Week 2: Stay. Have one conversation this week where someone shares something hard — and you resist the urge to fix, advise, or share your own experience. Instead, try: "I'm sorry. That sounds really hard." Then stop talking. Let the silence sit. Notice what it feels like to not have an agenda in someone else's pain.

Week 3: Reach Out. Identify someone in your life who has experienced a significant loss within the past year — not necessarily a death. Send a message with no agenda other than connection. "I've been thinking about you. How are you doing?" Don't expect a response. Don't need one. Just let them know they're not forgotten.

Week 4: Plan to Stay. Pick one grieving person in your life. Mark their calendar milestones: the one-month mark, the three-month mark, the six-month mark, the one-year anniversary. Set reminders. When those dates come, reach out. A text. A call. "I know this is a hard day. Just wanted you to know I'm thinking of you." This is what long-term presence looks like — not heroic gestures, but faithful remembering.

Week 5: Be an Emmett. Dr. Cloud's mother had a friend named Emmett who simply showed up — every day, for months — during a crisis. Identify one practical thing you could do for someone who is struggling: bring a meal, take the kids for an afternoon, run an errand, sit with them while they watch a movie. Don't ask "Let me know if you need anything." Just do the thing.

Scenario Cards

Scenario 1: The Hallway Moment Marcus's wife died three weeks ago. He's back at work but clearly struggling — distracted, withdrawn, often stepping out of meetings. You want to say something but don't know what. You've just passed him in the hallway.

What would you say? What would you not say? What are the risks of saying nothing at all?

Scenario 2: The Long Grief Your friend Denise lost her adult son to an overdose eighteen months ago. At first, your friend group rallied around her. But now everyone has moved on, and Denise is still deeply struggling — isolated, canceling plans, getting worse. Someone in the group says, "We've done what we can. She needs to see a professional."

What's valid about that perspective? What's missing? What would it look like to both stay present and help bridge her to professional support?

Scenario 3: The Invisible Loss Your coworker James seems off — withdrawn, short-tempered, not himself. You find out he recently learned his startup, which he spent five years building, is shutting down. People around the office are treating it like a career setback. But watching James, it looks like grief.

Do you say something? What do you say about a loss that most people don't recognize as grief? What does he need that he probably isn't getting?

Journaling & Reflection

Looking Back

• Write about a time someone carried you through something. What did it feel like to be held up when you couldn't stand on your own? What did they do that made their presence feel safe?

• Think of a time you wish someone had shown up but didn't. What did you need? What would it have meant to receive it?

Looking Inward

• What makes it hard for you to be present with someone else's pain? What are you afraid of? What do you think you need to have that you feel you don't?

• When someone is hurting, what's your instinct — to fix, advise, minimize, disappear, or something else? Where did that pattern come from?

Looking Forward

• Imagine someone you love is going through a terrible loss. Write out what you would do, day by day, for the first month. What would showing up actually look like?

• Who has been your "Emmett" — the person who just showed up, day after day? What would it take for you to be that person for someone else?