I'm sorry for your loss...

When my beloved friend Teneisha died of cancer in 2019, I learned many things. I learned that no-one prepares you on how to cope or even to begin to process when a friend dies. I learned how gut-wrenching and earth shattering it was to have to pick up the phone over and over again and tell mutual friends and family one by one, that she had died and hold their shock and my devastation all at once. In making those initial phone calls, I also learned how much I utterly loathe the phrase: “I am sorry for your loss”.

It feels cold, robotic and careless.

I’ve always found the phase strange, but it never agitated me to the extent that it does now, until someone I loved dearly died.

Language matters. Attributing loss to death feels frivolous to me. No one is lost. You lose your car keys. Someone has died. Honour that. Name that. Be with the truth of that. The weight of that.

At a time where grief is so palpable - language matters.

It seems I am not alone.

I recently saw a post on social media in relation to Dying Awareness Week - that shares the experience of a Hospice worker who received feedback from a widow when her husband died. The widow shared how the phrase “I’m sorry for your loss” was ‘the single most upsetting thing her and her son heard when her husband died’

The single most upsetting thing.

You’d think this would spark empathy or at least curiosity, but it sparked absolute foolishness in the comments. So instead of wasting my time in the social media abyss, I thought - this will make a good long form post on Substack.

The original post makes a number of good points such as “there is no perfect thing to say” which is of course true. It also invites people to share more about their experience with the phrase, “I’m sorry for your loss” - and to share alternatives that are comforting. But instead, there were reams of reflexive comments from those who like the term, to assert their dominance on why they will continue to use it with their full chest. Some ‘highlights’ - shall we call them - were to ‘show gratitude that people are bothering to send condolences at all’. Tired arguments that ‘people are too offended these days' and that they ‘won’t have their language policed’, and that ‘these are just the phrases you say for these occasions. - like happy mothers day’.

These responses highlight this is about them and what they want to do, not what the person grieving needs. And here lies the real issue - the comment; ‘these are just the phrases you say for these occasions’ - perfectly illustrates that these are canned responses - not meaningful ways to engage with someone who is grieving.

What I found fascinating in these comments, was rather than reflect on whatever feelings were emerging as a result of using this term and realising it may have caused upset, it turned into a shit show of ego, an astonishing lack of empathy and bastardised into a conversation about “semantics” rather than pausing to consider how we can better connect with one another’s humanity when we are grieving.

Which goes back to a point I often return to, we are emotionally immature at talking about death, let alone supporting people who are grieving.

It’s ok to change and adapt. It’s ok for us to reflect on why we even say things, to change our thinking and language and do things differently when we learn new information. If someone has shared what you might be doing is upsetting - why wouldn’t you want to take that on board?

To return to the original invitation from the post - here’s some alternatives to “I’m sorry for your loss” that I found more comforting:

I am thinking of you.

I don’t know what to say, but I am here for you

I am sending you love

I am here for you (and back up words with actions)

What do you need right now, how best can I support you?

Just being present

Or quite simply, I am so sorry [insert their name] has died.

Grief is messy, lonely, distressing, all consuming and hard and it is all around us right now. The least we can do for someone who is grieving is to provide deeper connection at a time when you often feel so lonely, disconnected and discombobulated. If that means considering something more than a canned “I’m sorry for your loss” response, then so be it.

There are so many other words we can use and actions we can take, to provide more care to someone who is experiencing bereavement - it’s not about “us” our comfort, or being right.

Grief is so hard. Debate less, connect more.

Teneisha and I

I share more about my experience of grief when Teneisha died here and in this podcast ‘A love Letter to My Friend’ - here.

Much love

Nova xx

Thanks for being here. Nova Reid is a writer, author of The Good Ally, TED Speaker and Producer. You can find out more about her work on www.novareid.com