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 don’t know how a grieving mother would or could navigate society ever again. The level of ignorance that would be seen in the world, could lead one to insanity. My mom recently lost her partner, we held a lot of quiet space for her healing with her, at her pace, on her time. That’s the way it should be.
It’s a raw moment when our inner noise meets someone’s grief—suddenly, our thoughts feel small, almost trivial. That humbling sting can be a quiet teacher, showing us where our hearts need to stretch.
There’s something profound in that collision—how the weight of another’s sorrow hushes our own inner monologue, shifting our perspective in an instant. It’s as if grief has its own gravity, drawing us into a space where the usual noise falls away, leaving room for something deeper.
I think to witness naked grief can be a shocking experience. Every wall falls away and deep emotions are exposed. Most turn away, and rightly so. It is a sacred spiritual place.
In 2021 , I lost my oldest son to suicide. Devastating, of course. But more devastating , was the childhood friend , who I had little contact with and who I had mostly avoided after we had reconnected after many years and a continent apart, called because she had heard through a mutual friend about his death. She barely got condolences out of her mouth when the questions about his suicide started. I kept trying to change the subject, because first off it was none of her business, she had never met him, she barely knew me. I politely got off the phone, then the anger set in. I texted her. Told her not to attend his memorial or to contact me again. She said she didn't understand why I was so upset because it was common knowledge of his manner of death. I have had no contact with her since. Mutual friends have tried to contact me on her behalf. I refuse to even hear any of them. Until you have walked in the shoes of someone who has lost a child, in any matter, keep your trap shut.
Their ignorance is astounding. Why do they need to know the details? I must admit, I started hating people. Really deep hate. It took me many years to trust anyone again.
Good for you Kim. I'm deeply sorry for the loss of your precious child. I am here for you, remember that. 🩷
As a ten year old I heard many of those phrases when my mother died. They made me angry because they were parroted and repeated. Especially the "I'm so sorry for your loss." from people who wouldn't throw water on me if I was on fire.
I finally came to realize that people use these cliche's because they truly don't know what else to say. I think we can educate people how to help others grieve. I've tried with my friends and children. That was such a heartfelt piece. Thank you for sharing it. Love, V.
My husband died in December. One person told me, “He would want you to move on” less than a week after he died. In March, someone else asked me why I was still wearing my wedding ring. Still others didn’t want to call me because it might remind me that my husband is dead.
I don’t think I’ll ever need to be reminded that my husband is dead. I’ll move on when I’m damn well ready to and I will wear the big ol’ diamond ring he gave me as long as I damn well please.
Gorgeous post. Listening is so powerful. People are not very good at it. Grief is hidden in deep places and it takes time to begin to think about understanding it. I've written about this too. I've also been someone who has said the wrong thing. Thanks for writing this and sharing your beautiful feelings in such a clear and thoughtful way.
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.
Thank you for your thoughtful words Sar. 🩷
Being present to witness. No magic words can release you from the agony. It can't be fixed. Someone's quiet presence is worth more than words.
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.
Thank you for understanding Joe.
I don’t know how a grieving mother would or could navigate society ever again. The level of ignorance that would be seen in the world, could lead one to insanity. My mom recently lost her partner, we held a lot of quiet space for her healing with her, at her pace, on her time. That’s the way it should be.
I became a recluse. The mindless chatter was too much.
I understand how and why you would.
Thank you for understanding Jessica.
this was one of the most moderated and gentle rebukes I have read.
Thank you so much Todd.
It’s a raw moment when our inner noise meets someone’s grief—suddenly, our thoughts feel small, almost trivial. That humbling sting can be a quiet teacher, showing us where our hearts need to stretch.
There’s something profound in that collision—how the weight of another’s sorrow hushes our own inner monologue, shifting our perspective in an instant. It’s as if grief has its own gravity, drawing us into a space where the usual noise falls away, leaving room for something deeper.
I think to witness naked grief can be a shocking experience. Every wall falls away and deep emotions are exposed. Most turn away, and rightly so. It is a sacred spiritual place.
This is so on point Rea !
"You had many wonderful years together. You're fortunate."......
*I was but I wanted more years with him!!!!...* can I just scream?!
There were times I seriously wanted to slap someone.
Oh yeah.... in the face with a rock
I know!! If they would only just hug you without speaking.
Yes, if you don't know what to say, say nothing and just hug...
In 2021 , I lost my oldest son to suicide. Devastating, of course. But more devastating , was the childhood friend , who I had little contact with and who I had mostly avoided after we had reconnected after many years and a continent apart, called because she had heard through a mutual friend about his death. She barely got condolences out of her mouth when the questions about his suicide started. I kept trying to change the subject, because first off it was none of her business, she had never met him, she barely knew me. I politely got off the phone, then the anger set in. I texted her. Told her not to attend his memorial or to contact me again. She said she didn't understand why I was so upset because it was common knowledge of his manner of death. I have had no contact with her since. Mutual friends have tried to contact me on her behalf. I refuse to even hear any of them. Until you have walked in the shoes of someone who has lost a child, in any matter, keep your trap shut.
Their ignorance is astounding. Why do they need to know the details? I must admit, I started hating people. Really deep hate. It took me many years to trust anyone again.
Good for you Kim. I'm deeply sorry for the loss of your precious child. I am here for you, remember that. 🩷
Thanks for the support. People need to take a step back before they speak to the bereaved. It's astounding the insensitivity
Yes to them all! Thank you Rea 🙏
Sending love dear Esther. 🩶🩶🙏
Don’t, just don’t, is right!
Hugs
Hey Rea, thank-you for the excellent translations and likely feelings of the person on the other side of the cliche.
I can imagine how difficult it is to show compassion, if you don't know what to say. People try but fumble it. Hard for everyone.
As a ten year old I heard many of those phrases when my mother died. They made me angry because they were parroted and repeated. Especially the "I'm so sorry for your loss." from people who wouldn't throw water on me if I was on fire.
I finally came to realize that people use these cliche's because they truly don't know what else to say. I think we can educate people how to help others grieve. I've tried with my friends and children. That was such a heartfelt piece. Thank you for sharing it. Love, V.
Thank you for sharing your experience Virg.
My husband died in December. One person told me, “He would want you to move on” less than a week after he died. In March, someone else asked me why I was still wearing my wedding ring. Still others didn’t want to call me because it might remind me that my husband is dead.
I don’t think I’ll ever need to be reminded that my husband is dead. I’ll move on when I’m damn well ready to and I will wear the big ol’ diamond ring he gave me as long as I damn well please.
You take as much time as you need Marni, and wear your diamond ring to your grave! Sending ❤
Gorgeous post. Listening is so powerful. People are not very good at it. Grief is hidden in deep places and it takes time to begin to think about understanding it. I've written about this too. I've also been someone who has said the wrong thing. Thanks for writing this and sharing your beautiful feelings in such a clear and thoughtful way.
I think all of us have said the wrong thing to someone in mourning. Thank you Rachel.