Dreaded Clichés
cliché /ˈkliːʃeɪ/ A phrase or opinion that is overused and betrays a lack of original thought.
Many people who have lost someone can attest that these things said by well-meaning people, actually make us want to run away and never talk to them again. I didn’t know this before I lost my son but now unfortunately I do.
"Your loved one is in a better place. They don't have to suffer anymore."
The griever knows that their loved one isn't suffering anymore. But they are! And they would give anything to have them here with them, not anywhere else, better place or not!
"If you look around, there's always someone worse off."
Right now, the griever feels like there isn't anyone worse off than them. They have just lost a treasured loved one and can't imagine anything worse.
"Keep your chin up."
When all they want to do is wail, scream, cry, yell, swear, curse and rage, they do not want someone to tell them to just cut that all off and carry on.
"You had many wonderful years together. You're fortunate."
And they would give anything, make any bargain, trade anything to have more years. This loved one shouldn't have died. Their life may have just begun. You lost a whole future with their death.
"You're only given as much as you can handle."
Who made that one up? They want to tell you that you have no idea how much they have already handled and now it feels like they can't go another step. Many are in such a deep state of depression and wonder who decided they could handle this.
"Remember, it's God's will."
They may want to tell you that they can't understand how God could cause them so much despair. And they may want you to understand that they cannot accept this horrible act as a caring God's will.
"Be thankful that you have other children."
They want to acknowledge their healthy children at home but also tell you that this child, was as precious as the other children. No one will ever replace this child in their life.
"You can have other children."
They probably can't think about the next minute, never mind the future. Right now, they are in agony because their child died! They have no interest in anything else. And another child will never replace this child.
"Count your blessings."
In this state of mind they probably can't, in their wildest imagination, consider all this pain, anger, emptiness, frustration, and fear a blessing. They want to have these feelings acknowledged and supported, not have to worry about your discomfort.
"You have to be strong for the children."
They may want to tell you that they can't be strong for themselves, never mind other people. And they may want to know who will support them as they feel themselves falling apart.
"I know just how you feel."
No, you don't! No one else can know how this terrible pain feels. Everyone's feelings are uniquely theirs. Acknowledge the feelings by naming them and listening to their story.
"Now you have to be the man/woman of the house."
Telling a child that they have to do something that they know they can't do is frightening, confusing and overwhelming for them. At any level, this phrase makes absolutely no sense.
This is not to point any fingers at anyone it is just to let people know what goes through the mind of someone who lost a loved one and how they suffer when in grief. Before you say something inane to someone in grief please Think!
Namaste
Thank you, Rea, for this raw and deeply human reflection. Your words carve out space for a kind of grief that too often gets suffocated under platitudes and discomfort. In challenging these clichés, you've illuminated the quiet violence they can do—not out of malice, but out of fear and the need to tidy grief into something manageable. You’ve offered a powerful reminder that the grieving don’t need solutions—they need presence, validation, and the dignity of being met where they are.
This piece also gently holds a mirror to our culture’s unease with pain, showing how reflexively we rush to soothe instead of to listen. It’s a timely call to slow down, to resist the urge to "fix," and instead to simply witness. You’ve articulated something profoundly necessary—that grief is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be honoured. Thank you for writing with such grace and honesty.
I know just how you feel.
I wrote an entire post on this once. I erupted on someone once over this. I can wholeheartedly relate.