five things you should never say to a grieving parent
Losing my daughter has transformed me. Permanently. It is an irreversible tragedy that I can’t “positive vibe” my way out of.
Many people know this, and they struggle for the right words to comfort me. The thing is, there truly aren’t any words that can bring comfort to this situation.
Let’s face it – it’s awkward figuring out something to say to a parent whose child has died. Most parents in this terrible situation, including myself, understand this and are usually grateful that you’re making any effort at all.
However, in my opinion and experience as a grieving mama, there are certain things that you should definitely NOT say to a parent who is grieving. Things that tend to send a twinge of annoyance (and, ok, sometimes straight anger) down our spines.
We know you mean well, but please. Enough with these five phrases:
“God needed another angel in Heaven”/ “God called her home”/”God only takes the best.” First of all, know your audience here. I am not religious, so all of these get under my skin. I am pretty good about reminding myself that people mean well and God is comforting to them, so they want to share that comfort with me. The thing that irks me about these statements the most is the idea that there was some sort of “plan” for Libby to die. Or some sort of justification for why she’s better off – like she’d rather be with God or in heaven than with her mama. And I don’t buy that for a second. There’s no good reason for a beautiful, caring, one-of-a-kind 10 year-old girl to die. Period.
“At least she went quickly.” Here’s the problem. I don’t know if she went quickly. I know her side of the car got hit by a huge truck and she was already dead when anyone arrived. But “quick” is a relative term. I like to convince myself that it was instantaneous, but I also know that she saw the truck coming and probably had time to be scared, and that haunts me daily. I don’t know if she felt anything, or had time to think anything. I DON’T KNOW. And those moments are the ones that my brain constantly replays in different ways – none of them comforting. But most of all, I don’t like this statement because I didn’t have the chance to say goodbye. The last time I saw her I dropped her off at dance and we blew each other a kiss as she ran in the door of her studio. And then she was gone, and I never saw her again. Not even her body. There’s a special kind of hell for parents who don’t get that closure.
“I don’t know how you’re doing it.”/ “I could never survive if that happened to me.” The easiest way to explain this one is to say, with complete confidence, that you have no idea how you would handle losing a child until it actually happens to you. Did I think I would survive losing my precious daughter? Absolutely not. In fact, I used to say to her all the time that I didn’t know what I’d do if she died. But here I am – getting out of bed each morning, going to work, writing, doing laundry, grocery shopping … I guess I’m “doing it.” Is that surviving? I suppose. Did I have a choice? Not really. I have two boys that are still alive, and many people who love and care about me. That kept me going on days when I wanted to give up and end things. Am I good at putting on a fake face and then eating a pint of ice cream and wallowing in self-pity when I get home? Abso-freakin-lutely.
“Life/God only gives you what you can handle.” Well then, they both suck. Because NO ONE should have to handle losing a child. Or for that matter, a sister, sister-in-law, cousin, dad, stepmom, and family dog. Or have a mom with pancreatic cancer. This statement sounds like I’m being punished for being a strong person with my sh*t together. Not cool.
“When are you going to get back to normal?” Umm, whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?? I can actually give you an answer to that ridiculous question. Never. I have no “normal” at this point. I will always be the mom who lost her 10 year-old daughter. I will always feel a twinge of sadness when I see other little girls that age. I will always get a stabby feeling in my heart when a song she loved comes on the radio. I will always see literally anything about dance and get depressed imagining what she would’ve looked like during her senior year of competition. When her friends are starting to go to proms, get married, have babies … I will always feel jealous and heartbroken that she never got to experience any of those things. The grief of losing a child never goes away, and no one should expect grieving parents to be the same afterwards.
There you go – five things you should not say to a grieving parent. If you’re reading this and you’ve said one of these things to me, don’t worry. I’ve got nothing but love for everyone who reached out and I know people’s hearts are in the right place. I just wanted to send out a reminder that it’s a good idea to think about what you say before you say it.
In my next post, I’m going to be more positive and share the five things people said or did for me after Libby died that I found the most helpful. ❤️
Watch the video for this topic HERE!
