How to Support Someone Who Is Grieving: 10 Truths from a Grief Therapist

Earlier this week, someone asked me, “If you could say one thing to society about being a griever, what would it be?” My first response was, Just one?! As a grief therapist, author, and self-proclaimed yapper, I have a lot to say about grief, and most of it doesn’t fit into a single soundbite.

Every person on this planet will one day walk through the valley of loss. Yet somehow, we’ve created a culture that treats grief like a disease rather than the deeply human experience it is. We offer minimal bereavement leave for what often becomes a lifetime of missing. We say, “Let me know if you need anything,” when what we really mean is, I don’t know what to say or do. And we offer well-meaning platitudes that often land with a thud.

We can do better.

As I’ve written in my book, grief is not our enemy.
To every griever reading this: your pain is not pathology. Your tears are not a weakness. Your ongoing love for someone who’s no longer here is not something that needs to be cured or rushed.

Below are 10 truths I’ve gathered from years of sitting with grief. These are real reflections from real people. My hope is that they help us all love and support each other better.

1. There’s no timeline for grief

We hear this one a lot. It seems obvious… until society starts tapping its watch, waiting for us to “move on.” The truth is: grief doesn’t follow a schedule. Whether it’s been weeks, months, or years, our hearts heal at their own pace. Pressure to “be okay” by a certain time only adds shame and confusion to an already difficult journey.

Please don’t tell us it’s been “long enough.” We’re not late. We’re grieving.

2. We’re not “stuck.” We’re processing

After some time passes, people start wondering if we’re just depressed or anxious. And while grief can absolutely overlap with those things, it is its own unique process.

Grief is not linear. Some days, weeks, or months are harder than others, and that’s completely normal. We might have a good week followed by a terrible day. That’s not regression. It’s the ebb and flow of grief. We’re not broken. We’re human.

3. Ask if we want to talk about them

So many people avoid mentioning our person because they don’t want to cause more pain. That’s understandable, and for some people, it’s exactly what they need: space. But for others, hearing their loved one’s name, sharing memories, and being invited to talk is the comfort.

Please don’t stop asking. It gives us a choice, and that choice matters.

4. “At least” statements hurt

Let me be candid. Saying “At least they’re not suffering” or “At least you had time together” may feel helpful, but it often lands as dismissive. These statements minimize pain instead of holding it. If you don’t know what to say, a simple “I’m so sorry you’re going through this” can mean the world.

Gratitude and grief can coexist. But we don’t need to be told to be grateful while we’re aching. Our pain is valid, no matter the circumstances.

5. We need practical support

Yes, emotional support is important. But so is practical help. Grief brain is real. It’s hard to make even the smallest decisions, let alone organize our own support systems.

Instead of saying “Let me know if you need anything,” offer something specific:
“Can I drop off groceries?”
“Would you like me to pick up the kids?”
“I’m sending dinner on Thursday. No need to respond.”

Even a card or message that says, I’m thinking of you, without expecting a reply, can mean more than you know.

6. Anniversaries and holidays are hard…

Birthdays, death dates, holidays, and personal milestones don’t get easier, even years later. These days are often filled with invisible weight.

A quick text that says, “Thinking of you today” or “Remembering [their name] with you” is a small gesture that brings big comfort. Please don’t pretend those dates don’t exist. They’re seared into our hearts, and remembering them with us matters.

7. We may seem “fine,” but…

We’ve learned to function again while grieving. Just because we’re smiling, showing up, or traveling doesn’t mean we’re “over it.”

We will never be “over it.”

We put on masks because the world expects us to move forward. But behind that smile might be someone who cried in their car before work, or who had a panic attack before bed. Never assume someone is okay based on what you see on the outside.

8. Everyone’s grief looks different

And on that note, please don’t compare our grief to anyone else’s,  including your own. In my book, I discuss how everyone has their own unique grief rhythm. There’s no one right way to mourn.

Some people cry. Others go numb. Some stay busy. Others feel immobilized. Some need to talk. Others retreat inward. Please don’t judge our grief based on someone else’s pace or expression.

9. Small gestures mean everything

You don’t need the perfect words or a grand gesture. A text. A hug. Sitting with us in silence. A cup of coffee on our porch. These small, steady acts of presence can be incredibly healing.

What we need most is to feel remembered, not forgotten. To be seen in our grief, not rushed through it.

10. We’re forever changed

Grief transforms us. We’re not the same people we were before our loss, and we never will be. Stop waiting for us to “get back to normal.” This is our normal now.

We’re learning how to carry both love and loss. We’re learning how to live in a world that no longer holds the person we lost. That changes how we show up, what we care about, and how we move through the world.

And that’s okay.

To Those Who Stay

To those of you who walk beside someone grieving — thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Your presence, patience, and love mean more than words can say.

We don’t take your compassion for granted.
And we will never forget your kindness in our darkest moments.

Share This, Save This, Keep Talking

These truths came directly from the grief community, not just from me as a therapist, but from the people I know, love, and walk alongside. And from the griever inside of me, too.

I hope you’ll save this article.
I hope you’ll share it with someone who needs it.
Because when we understand grief better, we support each other better.

And the world could use more of that.