It’s hard to know how to help the bereaved during the period of mourning. Friends and loved ones may think it appropriate to ask the bereaved to call if they need anything. While the sentiment is sincere, asking, “Please call me,” places a burden on someone grieving a loss; someone who can barely muster the energy to get out of bed in the morning.

The bereaved won’t call. Mourners are too drained to take the initiative, don’t know what to ask for or don’t know what someone is willing to do. And what if the bereaved do take the initiative to call and ask for help? Chances are friends or loved ones won’t be available exactly when assistance is needed. And the last thing someone grieving needs is to ask for help and be turned down.

So how do friends and loved ones reach out and extend the needed support?

1. Offer something that’s comfortable for you to do. Suggest dropping off a dinner on Thursday or Friday and ask, “Which day is best?” One friend makes a point of calling before heading out to the grocery or pharmacy to see if the bereaved has errands she can run at the same time.  

2. Make your offer specific.  For example, communicate which day has some free time and volunteer to come visit, help, or do an errand. One friend made a standing offer of two free hours every Tuesday, helping the bereaved organize the mail and answer correspondence. Another friend stayed in the house and watched the children for a few hours, allowing the bereaved uninterrupted time to handle chores.

3. If doing something anonymous is more comfortable, drop off a gift. Neighbors grieving a loss were appreciative of a dozen bagels left on the doorstep. Another friend was touched to arrive home and find home-baked banana bread in the mailbox.

Grief is such a painful experience; it seems to take over your body and your life. Often it takes a mountain of courage just to get out of bed in the morning and face the day.

Support and companionship are so vital during the mourning process. Well-meaning friends and loved ones often say, “Call me if you need anything.” Well, it’s common for the bereaved not to know what they need and they lack the energy to make a call. Their thinking is so clouded; they’re getting by hour by hour.

When asked what helps the most, the bereaved frequently say, “Just show up.” Come to the hospital, the visitation, the funeral or memorial service, and the reception. And then offer to take a walk, listen, go for coffee or a meal, or just sit. And as you listen and observe, you will begin to understand what else might help your friend or loved one.

But know that if you are present, your presence is a gift. A priceless gift at that, because you demonstrated that you are there – you’ve shown up.

Years ago, when my mom was seriously ill, I was her caregiver. Overwhelmed, far from home and my support system, I had to lean on my mother’s friends. And they came through with meals, transportation, companionship, and errands. But it was one friend whose offers meant the most.

Each morning she would call and tell me when she had time that day. It might have been between two and four or eleven and noon. Whatever time she had, she offered to stay at the house so I could leave and take care of whatever I needed to do.

I can no longer remember this friend’s name, but I will never forget her kindness. She arrived on time and with a book. She’d read if my mom was asleep or keep her company if she was awake. If my mom needed some help, she would help.

This short daily respite allowed me to run errands at the grocery, pharmacy, or the shopping mall, take a short walk, or stop and pick up something for lunch. It gave me an opportunity each day to take a breath, knowing my mother was in good hands.

After all these years, it’s this wondrous support that I remember. And when I have the opportunity, I do it for others. Sometimes, you give the most when you give the gift of yourself.

My grandma died at 97, and I was heartbroken. It was partially because she helped raise me, partially because I adored her, but it was also unexpected.

“Unexpected?” you might say, and some people did. But she didn’t die at an age that was expected of her generation; she had outlived so many peers and younger relatives, I was sure she would live to be 100.

What difference should it make how old someone is when they die? Shouldn’t we extend the same sympathy and level of support no matter how old or young the deceased?

In retrospect, I didn’t get much sympathy when my grandma died. One colleague said upon hearing of her death and her age, “Didn’t you expect her to die Robbie?” Just because someone has lived a long life, does that mean the loss is any less painful?

No matter how old someone is when they die, the bereaved deserve the same consideration you would extend to anyone who has lost a loved one. Age doesn’t diminish the pain of loss and the mourning process is still the same.