When my friends little boy died, the phrase they found most upsetting was 'he's with the angels now.' I think it was having their grief simplified into this full stop of a statement that was so difficult when they don't actually share in the same faith/beliefs. They also found it hurtful when friends stopped saying his name.
Thank you so much for writing this piece and sharing that gorgeous photo of you and Teneisha.
This makes a lot of sense to me too re: angels and the sentiment behind it. I also hated it when people stopped saying Teneisha’s name. Thank you for these words 🙏🏾
Nova, thank you for the this. I’m a recent widow (one year) and I found that sharing memories of my husband meant a lot. Thoughts about his sense of humor, kindness, the love he expressed through his many talents (building, woodworking, gardening, etc.) Mostly, however, it was checking in on me, inviting me on walks or to fun activities, helping out with small things. I wrote about that in a recent post, “What I Learned in My First Year as a Widow.” I hated “Sorry for your loss” without a mention of his name, at the least. The worst was “Thoughts and prayers” with emojis, on Facebook. I stopped posting there because of that.
I love the picture of you and Taneisha. She radiates joy. I can see the love you shared, how much she brought to the world. Thank you for sharing this story.
It’s just feels so trite. The erasure of their name feels so hard and disrespectful, Thank you for naming this Mary. I appreciate you sharing more about your experience as a widow. I hope you’re continuing to navigate this season and these waves tenderly. X much love to you
Mary, I can relate to so much that you are expressing as a widow of now four years. Nova, a big thank you for bringing up this subject on death and grief and sharing your own tender memories of your friend Tenesha.
Sometimes I feel such an urge of mentioning my husband, his name when in discussions with others so that he will not be forgotten.
All those platitudes people are expressing makes me cringe.
Dear Nova, I seem to remember that the first time I saw a post from you about this sentence, "I'm sorry for your loss", it was in connection with the death of a beloved cat. I also remember being a little dismayed, because I have relied on ready-made sentences to deal with the death of some of my friends' parents or next-of-kin. I realised, as a young adult, that I didn't know how to deal with death, verbally. I've long felt at a loss for words to connect with people losing their loved ones. Now, I really force myself to respond as quickly as possible, so that I don't have time to think too much about it I get stressed about what to say. Because sometimes, I've said nothing and felt really bad for not being able to say something. I'm French, so the conventional words may not be the same as in English. I don't think we have something close to "I'm sorry for your loss"... I've said/written "My condolences" to people, but it kind of feel dry. I often use "I'm thinking of you" or "my thoughts are with you". I have also found that maybe sharing a fond memory you have of the demised can be appreciated by the griever. I guess I understand that some people need ready-made sentences/formulas to deal with special occasions, because they lack the words, though not necessarily the feelings. But I also understand the aversion we can sometimes have towards some of these words and sentences. I remember that, when I had a bout of depression in 2008, I just couldn't stand people always asking me "Ça va?", which means "Are you OK?". And I told some of my closest friends: stop asking me that. Because at the moment, the answer is always going to be "No, I'm not. I'm very very far from being OK". I was aware that it's difficult for people to get out of these automatisms and that I might appear like a pain in their ass for asking them to go out of their way to find some other ways to talk to me. But at the same time, I just couldn't hear that phrase anymore. So thanks for bringing that subject up to my attention. It got me thinking. I'm going to try to think of better ways to connect with death and people who grieve. My parents are getting old, so I will be on the receiving end of these sentences in a few years, I suppose. So it's important to dig into these questions. I guess we should also be aware that everyone deals with situations differently, so the first thing is to be open to hearing what the grievers need (some might not like touchy-feely stuff), and the second one is to know yourself well enough to know what you're actually able to say and do for them that will bring real comfort.
Yes: we sometimes have a hard time accepting that others might not be able or willing to deal with death, or other difficult situations, the same way that we would. What's acceptable/unacceptable to me might not be acceptable/unacceptable to someone else. I recently had an completely unexpected fight with an old friend, our first on 20 years of knowing each other. And I was baffled by something that she said. She had wanted to do something she felt was nice to me, and although I understood that she meant it like that, it felt to me as an imposition. And she was completely unable to accept that I might not want this imposition and ask her not to do it. She actually went completely berserk, cried and shouted, saying that she couldn't conceive that I would reproach her for being nice. That's what really surprised me: that she seemed to discover, at 40, that even when your intentions are good, you can do harm to people. And yes, when they tell you that they don't perceive it as a nice gesture/word, it's hurtful, because you only had the best intentions, but intentions aren't enough. We have to accept that even when we think we do things right, people might feel otherwise. As you say, it's personal, and if you love the person, you have to respect that, even if it's difficult.
I only wish my French was as sharp as your English. Thank you for your words Fanny and for reflecting on how you might be able to support/ provide comfort to folks experiencing death around you. You make so many beautifully human points. Thank you 🙏🏾
When my son died, I hated when people said that too, along with “he’s in a better place now.” Sure, maybe, but it still fucking hurts, right? And the fact that people seem more and more afraid to talk about him or speak his name.. It’s like he’s being erased from existence. One time, someone wrote, “I know how you feel, like when my dog died.” Not saying the death of a beloved pet doesn’t hurt like hell but I mean… Anyways, we who grieve hear all sorts of things. Thank you for writing and naming this, Nova. Teneisha was clearly a beautiful and beloved friend, and my heart hurts for you that you don’t have her anymore.
Thank you for sharing your experience of this when your son died Tiffany. I’m sorry you also had to contend with the carelessness around this time - no doubt on top of pain that’s inconceivable to most . I think people really struggle to just be with us in grief and try to soothe/fix the unfixable. Thank you again for sharing and thank you for your kind words about Teneisha x
"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." All of this! Thank you Nova! Platitudes are rarely comforting and I advocate for always using our own words when communicating. Especially when it comes to something as heavy as death, I found that we are actually better than we think at offering words that come from the heart. People are just scared to 'say the wrong thing' so they go with what they've learned.
This fear of “saying the wrong thing” is endemic. It’s also such an irrational fear. If you say the wrong thing it’s not the end. Adapt and course correct. It also means they are so busy centering themselves they are not showing up for the person who needs support. Thank you Nadia. I always appreciate your insights.
I loved your thoughtful words here. I also struggle to process profound grief.
I think that, if someone hears anything several times per day, it can feel trite. I love the alternatives you shared. However, isn't it possible, that any sentiment can become onerous to the grieving person? "I'm here for you," for example, can be viewed with disdain. People may say it but feel uncomfortable, not knowing how to show up for you. If you heard this 15 times in one day, wouldn't that also ring hollow?
I really resonate with your making calls and holding your grief and theirs. Sometimes, it helps to have someone else make the calls so you can process your grief on your own.
I struggle with saying someone died because the word death doesn't adequately convey my belief that someone transitioned into eternity. But I do understand profound loss: no longer hugging or hearing a loved one's voice, no longer recognizing their scent before they enter a room ... These are examples of the loss that I must both navigate, and the memories I celebrate.
Thank you for writing this. I found it really connected. I’ve always disliked the phrase ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ but not known what to say instead. This has helped me see that it is the impersonal nature of the phrase that makes it feel so wrong when dealing with an experience which is deeply personal to the bereaved. Thank you for equipping me with some other phrases if caught off guard, and helping me to understand how I can connect better with a person and their feelings at this time.
Sending waves of love as you move through remembering your friend Teneisha. I really appreciate this perspective on how we interact with death and what the 'acceptable' language allows when it comes to loving expression. 'Sorry for your loss' works for some and we allow for that, but for others, a little more is needed and it's safe for us to be able to sit with that too.
Good to read this Nova. And also some of the suggestions of what to say. A phrase I liked and felt, was “I will hold you in my thoughts” there was an understanding in those words that made me feel like the person knew I needed their support. Their presence. Another friend told me that they would send me a heart emoji. And it made me cry and feel loved whenever they popped into my messages. I knew she was with me, feeling get pain.
And thank you for writing this because friendship grief comes with particular challenges, including the assumption that it's easier to move on than for a direct relation. (I have a similar fierce loathing for language around battle + cancer - because, seriously, implications folk ain't fighting hard enough to live can just get in the bin. Treatments stop working, cause more harm than good - the most positive patient mindset cannot change ineffective treatment. We need better treatment, better long-term care and support, better quality of life care. Battle metaphors help no one.)
Absolutely. And I’m certain I’ve used the “battle or fight” metaphor before. And I’ve understood since that it’s upsetting/ unhelpful for some people with cancer, so I try to be more mindful with my words. Thank you for your words Lisa
Dear Nova, thank you for sharing this piece snd for the small window into your friendship with Teneisha. She was clearly a wonderful woman.
The phrase is one I’ve used before and although it’s admittedly felt trite/a little rote - it was ‘effective’. On reflection what an awful way to mark the ending of someone’s life, their light.
This piece had given me much to reflect on and useful guidance to be a better and more thoughtful friend. Thank you so much again for sharing.
Thank you for writing this. I have also found the language around grief to be stilted and robotic. I don't think people have any real conception of how to connect with grief, and are afraid. Probably because it is a mirror that reflects back to them all that lies beneath - untended. The robotic language acts as a shield or barrier that, I think subconsciously, "protects" them from accessing any difficult emotions. There is a long way to go, as you described in the pure reactivity from the comments section you read with everyone ready to defend the standard responses and no-one keen to actually reflect and think deeply about this. Collectively we have a long way to go with grief work and language, but articles and conversations like this one will help.
When my friends little boy died, the phrase they found most upsetting was 'he's with the angels now.' I think it was having their grief simplified into this full stop of a statement that was so difficult when they don't actually share in the same faith/beliefs. They also found it hurtful when friends stopped saying his name.
Thank you so much for writing this piece and sharing that gorgeous photo of you and Teneisha.
This makes a lot of sense to me too re: angels and the sentiment behind it. I also hated it when people stopped saying Teneisha’s name. Thank you for these words 🙏🏾
Nova, thank you for the this. I’m a recent widow (one year) and I found that sharing memories of my husband meant a lot. Thoughts about his sense of humor, kindness, the love he expressed through his many talents (building, woodworking, gardening, etc.) Mostly, however, it was checking in on me, inviting me on walks or to fun activities, helping out with small things. I wrote about that in a recent post, “What I Learned in My First Year as a Widow.” I hated “Sorry for your loss” without a mention of his name, at the least. The worst was “Thoughts and prayers” with emojis, on Facebook. I stopped posting there because of that.
I love the picture of you and Taneisha. She radiates joy. I can see the love you shared, how much she brought to the world. Thank you for sharing this story.
It’s just feels so trite. The erasure of their name feels so hard and disrespectful, Thank you for naming this Mary. I appreciate you sharing more about your experience as a widow. I hope you’re continuing to navigate this season and these waves tenderly. X much love to you
Thank you, Nova. I wish the same for you.
Oh, misspelled Teneisha’s name. How awful. Please forgive me.❤️
Mary, I can relate to so much that you are expressing as a widow of now four years. Nova, a big thank you for bringing up this subject on death and grief and sharing your own tender memories of your friend Tenesha.
Sometimes I feel such an urge of mentioning my husband, his name when in discussions with others so that he will not be forgotten.
All those platitudes people are expressing makes me cringe.
Feeling a bit tender so I'll stop here.
May I ask, Carina - what’s your husband’s name?
Oh of course! His name was Kenneth. And now I' teary eyed. But in a good way.
Thank you for sharing Kenneth with me and allowing me to speak his name into existence today. Not forgotten 🙏🏾
Much love to you, Carina.🫶
Likewise! 🧡
Dear Nova, I seem to remember that the first time I saw a post from you about this sentence, "I'm sorry for your loss", it was in connection with the death of a beloved cat. I also remember being a little dismayed, because I have relied on ready-made sentences to deal with the death of some of my friends' parents or next-of-kin. I realised, as a young adult, that I didn't know how to deal with death, verbally. I've long felt at a loss for words to connect with people losing their loved ones. Now, I really force myself to respond as quickly as possible, so that I don't have time to think too much about it I get stressed about what to say. Because sometimes, I've said nothing and felt really bad for not being able to say something. I'm French, so the conventional words may not be the same as in English. I don't think we have something close to "I'm sorry for your loss"... I've said/written "My condolences" to people, but it kind of feel dry. I often use "I'm thinking of you" or "my thoughts are with you". I have also found that maybe sharing a fond memory you have of the demised can be appreciated by the griever. I guess I understand that some people need ready-made sentences/formulas to deal with special occasions, because they lack the words, though not necessarily the feelings. But I also understand the aversion we can sometimes have towards some of these words and sentences. I remember that, when I had a bout of depression in 2008, I just couldn't stand people always asking me "Ça va?", which means "Are you OK?". And I told some of my closest friends: stop asking me that. Because at the moment, the answer is always going to be "No, I'm not. I'm very very far from being OK". I was aware that it's difficult for people to get out of these automatisms and that I might appear like a pain in their ass for asking them to go out of their way to find some other ways to talk to me. But at the same time, I just couldn't hear that phrase anymore. So thanks for bringing that subject up to my attention. It got me thinking. I'm going to try to think of better ways to connect with death and people who grieve. My parents are getting old, so I will be on the receiving end of these sentences in a few years, I suppose. So it's important to dig into these questions. I guess we should also be aware that everyone deals with situations differently, so the first thing is to be open to hearing what the grievers need (some might not like touchy-feely stuff), and the second one is to know yourself well enough to know what you're actually able to say and do for them that will bring real comfort.
and the essence absolutely is - it’s personal.
Yes: we sometimes have a hard time accepting that others might not be able or willing to deal with death, or other difficult situations, the same way that we would. What's acceptable/unacceptable to me might not be acceptable/unacceptable to someone else. I recently had an completely unexpected fight with an old friend, our first on 20 years of knowing each other. And I was baffled by something that she said. She had wanted to do something she felt was nice to me, and although I understood that she meant it like that, it felt to me as an imposition. And she was completely unable to accept that I might not want this imposition and ask her not to do it. She actually went completely berserk, cried and shouted, saying that she couldn't conceive that I would reproach her for being nice. That's what really surprised me: that she seemed to discover, at 40, that even when your intentions are good, you can do harm to people. And yes, when they tell you that they don't perceive it as a nice gesture/word, it's hurtful, because you only had the best intentions, but intentions aren't enough. We have to accept that even when we think we do things right, people might feel otherwise. As you say, it's personal, and if you love the person, you have to respect that, even if it's difficult.
I only wish my French was as sharp as your English. Thank you for your words Fanny and for reflecting on how you might be able to support/ provide comfort to folks experiencing death around you. You make so many beautifully human points. Thank you 🙏🏾
When my son died, I hated when people said that too, along with “he’s in a better place now.” Sure, maybe, but it still fucking hurts, right? And the fact that people seem more and more afraid to talk about him or speak his name.. It’s like he’s being erased from existence. One time, someone wrote, “I know how you feel, like when my dog died.” Not saying the death of a beloved pet doesn’t hurt like hell but I mean… Anyways, we who grieve hear all sorts of things. Thank you for writing and naming this, Nova. Teneisha was clearly a beautiful and beloved friend, and my heart hurts for you that you don’t have her anymore.
Thank you for sharing your experience of this when your son died Tiffany. I’m sorry you also had to contend with the carelessness around this time - no doubt on top of pain that’s inconceivable to most . I think people really struggle to just be with us in grief and try to soothe/fix the unfixable. Thank you again for sharing and thank you for your kind words about Teneisha x
Thank you, Nova. Sending you love.
I’ve been in heavy grief lately that has torn at me. I couldn’t make it through all of this without crying but thank you for these words.
Thank you Robert. I really hope they help. Go gently and tenderly as you move through this season of grief x
"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." All of this! Thank you Nova! Platitudes are rarely comforting and I advocate for always using our own words when communicating. Especially when it comes to something as heavy as death, I found that we are actually better than we think at offering words that come from the heart. People are just scared to 'say the wrong thing' so they go with what they've learned.
This fear of “saying the wrong thing” is endemic. It’s also such an irrational fear. If you say the wrong thing it’s not the end. Adapt and course correct. It also means they are so busy centering themselves they are not showing up for the person who needs support. Thank you Nadia. I always appreciate your insights.
I loved your thoughtful words here. I also struggle to process profound grief.
I think that, if someone hears anything several times per day, it can feel trite. I love the alternatives you shared. However, isn't it possible, that any sentiment can become onerous to the grieving person? "I'm here for you," for example, can be viewed with disdain. People may say it but feel uncomfortable, not knowing how to show up for you. If you heard this 15 times in one day, wouldn't that also ring hollow?
I really resonate with your making calls and holding your grief and theirs. Sometimes, it helps to have someone else make the calls so you can process your grief on your own.
I struggle with saying someone died because the word death doesn't adequately convey my belief that someone transitioned into eternity. But I do understand profound loss: no longer hugging or hearing a loved one's voice, no longer recognizing their scent before they enter a room ... These are examples of the loss that I must both navigate, and the memories I celebrate.
I think offers of support need to be backed up by action. Folks need to centre the person grieving, not themselves. Honesty is best for me
Thank you for sharing your experience and engaging with the piece. As I allude to in the post, it’s very personal and I’m sharing about that I feel.
Teneisha looks so lovely, what a bloody awful thing it is xxxx
Thank you for sharing your words and the beautiful photo of your friend.
Thank you for writing this. I found it really connected. I’ve always disliked the phrase ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ but not known what to say instead. This has helped me see that it is the impersonal nature of the phrase that makes it feel so wrong when dealing with an experience which is deeply personal to the bereaved. Thank you for equipping me with some other phrases if caught off guard, and helping me to understand how I can connect better with a person and their feelings at this time.
Sending waves of love as you move through remembering your friend Teneisha. I really appreciate this perspective on how we interact with death and what the 'acceptable' language allows when it comes to loving expression. 'Sorry for your loss' works for some and we allow for that, but for others, a little more is needed and it's safe for us to be able to sit with that too.
Absolutely this
Good to read this Nova. And also some of the suggestions of what to say. A phrase I liked and felt, was “I will hold you in my thoughts” there was an understanding in those words that made me feel like the person knew I needed their support. Their presence. Another friend told me that they would send me a heart emoji. And it made me cry and feel loved whenever they popped into my messages. I knew she was with me, feeling get pain.
And thank you for writing this because friendship grief comes with particular challenges, including the assumption that it's easier to move on than for a direct relation. (I have a similar fierce loathing for language around battle + cancer - because, seriously, implications folk ain't fighting hard enough to live can just get in the bin. Treatments stop working, cause more harm than good - the most positive patient mindset cannot change ineffective treatment. We need better treatment, better long-term care and support, better quality of life care. Battle metaphors help no one.)
Absolutely. And I’m certain I’ve used the “battle or fight” metaphor before. And I’ve understood since that it’s upsetting/ unhelpful for some people with cancer, so I try to be more mindful with my words. Thank you for your words Lisa
I hope the light of Teneisha's smile and the joy you shared continue to grace your memory ❤️
Thank you
Dear Nova, thank you for sharing this piece snd for the small window into your friendship with Teneisha. She was clearly a wonderful woman.
The phrase is one I’ve used before and although it’s admittedly felt trite/a little rote - it was ‘effective’. On reflection what an awful way to mark the ending of someone’s life, their light.
This piece had given me much to reflect on and useful guidance to be a better and more thoughtful friend. Thank you so much again for sharing.
Thank you for writing this. I have also found the language around grief to be stilted and robotic. I don't think people have any real conception of how to connect with grief, and are afraid. Probably because it is a mirror that reflects back to them all that lies beneath - untended. The robotic language acts as a shield or barrier that, I think subconsciously, "protects" them from accessing any difficult emotions. There is a long way to go, as you described in the pure reactivity from the comments section you read with everyone ready to defend the standard responses and no-one keen to actually reflect and think deeply about this. Collectively we have a long way to go with grief work and language, but articles and conversations like this one will help.