This commentary is rather harsh and lacking in understanding and empathy. Generally, people are not well-equipped to offer condolences, much like Michael has described himself. They are usually caught off-guard or are generally uncomfortable dealing with the trauma or tragedy of others. They are usually at a loss for words that will offer comfort. They are perplexed by their powerlessness to console. When they mention their past losses, they are often re-living their own feelings – not disregarding the other person’s loss. Yes, we all should be better at consoling friends. But to chastise others for that which you admittedly do yourself is just poor character. Nothing but the pot calling the kettle black; do as I say, not as I do...

The best we can offer each other is “I’m sorry for your __________. If there’s anything I can do to help, I’m here for you.” And an accompanying hug, if appropriate. Because, in reality, there is nothing but time that can lessen our grief.

I wish I could offer you some kind word, a prayer, or a magic pill that will make your sorrow go away ... but ... I can't. No one can. I can offer you support as you try to reconcile the loss you have suffered.

I don't quite agree with some of the above statements by Mr. J. I believe it is helpful to give the bereaved or hurt person some positive messages such as "You will miss them which is natural but they are out of their pain" or "You will feel better tomorrow" or "Your relative will live forever in your memory" or say something positive and put some positive energy into the situation. Saying "I care and I love you" is also a positive energy statement. So it doesn't matter what you say as long as it promotes a positive attitude in the bereaved. Agree?

I'm surprised at the comment from Mr. T. Describing Michael's comments as lacking in undersanding and empathy is the opposite of what I read. He showed that to really tune in to the other person you have to understand what he or she is going through. In addition, Michael points out that it is not a question of finding the "right thing to say" but instead to find the right thing to do: provide love, support, and presence.

Mr. T gets back on track with the phrase "I'm sorry for your....." I usually add, "Let me know what you need or what you'd like me to do. I'm here for you."

When my husband left us 11 years ago, I was first in shock, then depressed. What helped me the most was when people let me talk and cry and just listened. They did not ask "What can I do?" They said "Let's go have lunch/dinner" and just listened. God bless my friends for listening - it must have been hard for them. Hugs were great, cards saying "I'm thinking of you" were great, but just letting me talk was the best thing they could have done.

When my husband passed away and I returned to work, a teacher colleague whom I respected but had not much to do with approached me and said, "I am not good at this, but if you need anything, I am here for you." Those words, even 15 years later, still come to mind when one of my teachers is going through difficult grieving times. Her words were sincere and enough for me to know she was there for me. Condolences do not need to be dramatic but sincere and to the point.
Learning every day.

I am currently about halfway through my 67th trip around our old solar system and have lost some dear friends over the years. I have learned that grief is a process that is for me alone and at some point it will end and when it ends I can enjoy the memories of time spent with those good friends who have been a part of my life. The best I can give to someone dealing with grief is to simply let them know that whenever the time is right I will be there to listen, quietly, with love and affection.

A few years ago, my mother-in-law was fighting cancer. Hundreds of people wanted to express their concern and offer their prayers for her and contacted me instead of bothering her, which was the right thing to do. Unfortunatly, calling me repeatedly or asking me in person "How is she doing? What is the latest?" was a frustrating task, even answering those I myself loved.
I learned a lot! I promised that if anyone or their loved one was ever dealing with sad times, the only thing I would ever say is "Please know that ____ is in our prayers every day and we are wishing you only the best. And of course, don't hesitate to call if you need anything at all. It would be our pleasure to help in anyway."

My wife is now on the mend from a stroke and the outpouring of affection and help has been amazing. And for those who don't ask me to explain her medical condition... I am so grateful!!! I have recieve hundreds of emails and calls and the one's that say "don't call us back" are the ones that make me smile. Because I can't call anyone back right now.

My advice... don't ask questions... just say that you are there if they need you. And prayers are most appreciated!

The husband of a good friend died suddenly years ago and I didn't know what to say to her... so I said just that.

I said, "I wish I knew the right words to say, but I don't. I'm so sorry... and I just want you to know that I'm here for you."

I think it is a universal dilemma to not know what to say. In fact, there is nothing to say. We really cannot share in the grief of another person because everyone has a different journey and reaction.
I think the best thing to say is, "There is nothing I can say right now, but I am thinking about you." Bring a meal. Send a card. Send a note a few weeks or months later. A touch on the arm. Making a donation to a charity in the memory of the loved one.
Don't ignore the grief. Just saying I am sorry can be enough.

I believe fewer words and more action is what is best. Offer to take care of the kids, cook a meal, help with chores around the house. Let that person know how much you care through the time you are willing to give. Be there to listen to their stories, acknowledge their feelings, give your opinion when asked. True friends probably won't notice how awkward you might be feeling, they'll just be thankful that they're not alone and you are willing to give them some of your time.

Michael is right about all the things you try to say: really doesn't matter to that person that just lost a loved one. Just being there for the person, and an "I'm sorry you're going through this. I'm here if you need anything." And then be available no matter what.
I agree with Mr. T's last sentence.

Many times I have seen people do nothing because they don't know what to do. This can be very hurtful. I have been on the receiving end of that and have made a vow not to do it to someone else. So when I am not sure what to say or do, I do a little meditation on honesty, courage, compassion and humility to overcome any embarrassment in saying the wrong thing and doing my best to offer help and love.

These are some of the things I do and have actually done a few times this year alone as several of my friends have unfortunately lost loved ones. They could be adjusted to help someone going through other kinds of crises.

Along the lines of Mr T's post, I say I'm sorry and admit I don't know how they are feeling or what I could do to help. I let them know I love them and am here for them and to please let me know what I could do to help. I want to help anyway I can.

I offer a few ideas, asking them if I could take on something that I figure might be difficult for them to accomplish during their challenging time or might provide some respite. It might be make dinner for them, take their kids to the park, or be a shoulder to cry on or a friend to listen.

Sometimes they don't take me up on anything, so I end up doing a little something anyway. Nothing intrusive, though. It might be leaving a special token of affection in their mailbox or making a casserole for their freezer or doing something special in the garden for a person who loved to garden and can no longer tend to it. It usually makes them feel a little better that someone is at least trying to care for them.

Finally, I let my friend know I love them, value their friendship, and point out their special qualities, many of which have been inheritied from or deeply influenced by their loved one who has passed away. For example, a friend who is an active volunteer and civic leader lost her grandma who instilled in her these values of service to the community. Another friend lost his mother and in addition to having the same beautiful blue eyes has a zest for life that his mother taught him in her life. I have shared those observations, to honor the ones who have passed on, and to share with my friends the idea that they are carrying on their loved one's legacy.

Tough emotional situations require extra love and patience of friends and family. In my experience, minimal words at these times is best. A hug, a light touch of the hand or a meaningful look direct in the eyes are often a good remedy. If we want to be supportive, best not to bring up the issue, just check on those who need us, clean up without show, cook a meal or take them for coffee. Invite your friend or family member for a walk, a run, a bike ride, a class, a movie. Don't give up but don't push. If we just ask how someone is and let them tell us what they need, we get all the necessary direction to show them they have real support. The rest is handled by time.

This week I lost my pet Westie, Max, who was the dearest friend I could have ever wanted. Although my family has tried to console me, I know my profound sorrow is part of a process that cannot and should not be denied anyone no matter how much you don't want to see them sad. I believe I am honoring him in some way by validating my true love for him and his true value to me and everyone he touched.

When asked by my husband and children, "What can we do?" I told them they needed to let me feel my pain and cry because without it I can't experience the essence of life.

Bottom line, I agree with the earlier comment that the best thing we can do for anyone grieving a loss is to let them know you are there for them and support them in their mourning process.

I totally disagree with Mr. T's first line. This is not a harsh commentary nor does it lack understanding and empathy, actually just the opposite. (Just my humble opinion.)

It is okay to simply say, "I am so sorry!" and nothing else. I know that grief is something you MUST go through, there is no way around it nor under it, but you will get through it one way or another.

When I write sympathy cards for a death, I put "May many wonderful memories keep 'name here' alive in your heart forever." If I have a small story to tell, I might write one of my memories.

Once while grieving someone said they missed my smile. It helped me realize my grief was affecting others and they felt my pain. I am glad to say we finally got through it just fine with time.

I completely agree with and have often expressed the same thoughts as Michael Josephson regarding the stupid things other people say when one is suffering. With my son's premature birth at 2 lbs, my own mother would tell me to "put it into perspective" and that "others have it worse." What these words of supposed helpfullness really do is invalidate one's feelings. We can't stop people from saying stupid things, but we can control our response to them. First, we should remember that people mean well and don't intend to say hurtful words. Secondly, we can teach by modeling. We, who know better, speak truthful words from the heart. My friend who suffered a miscarriage agreed with me; she said she'd rather that people just say the truth, "That is horrible! I'm sorry."

What you said is correct. We live in an age where we are tremendously influenced by religion. I truly believe. If we can give the person or persons the assurance that there is something greater to look forward to after a disastrous situation, that will help. Your words are very beautiful. In times, beautiful words cannot help. We need to be convinced without a shadow of a doubt that we can open our eyes to a new day. Thank you!

I appreciate the suggestions of what not to do. In the moment I might not remember them all, but having read them and thought about them at this time might make it easier for me to refrain from causing any further grief to the person I am trying to console.

I have found that the best response I can give is to be honest and say "I don't know what to say. I don't know how you feel, and if I could, I would take some of your pain away. The best I can offer is to be available to you. Don't hesitate to ask for help or just someone to listen."

I had a friend whose 18-month-old daughter was dying from a rare form of cancer. She kept wondering if she had done something wrong during the pregnancy, if there was something more she should/could do. She wanted a reason for this tragedy. I made the family some dinners -- you don't need to say anything when you're carrying food. I also said the situation just IS. It happened, it was no one's fault, it was nature, and it just is. She later told me that this helped immensely. I didn't tell her to cheer up. I was honest, but I also relieved her of blame.

The best way to understand what would be appropriate to say is to put your brain in gear before saying anything. Think of what you would want someone to say to you during your time of grief and then offer those same condolences to others. Perhaps this would mitigate any inappropriate statements.

Some years ago, I was a Camp Director for a summer camp on a military base. One afternoon, as parents were picking up their children, a couple of guys were doing some work with a tractor a few yards from us. One of the guys was jumping on and off the tractor and playing around it. One of the camp workers joked that the guy should stop clowning around before he breaks his neck. After we'd gone home for the day, it turned out the guy playing around the tractor had tripped and fell under it. The tractor rolled over his head and he was killed. When I arrived at the campsite the next day, the worker who'd made the comment was standing by the lake alone. As soon as someone told me what'd happened, I walked over to the worker. Not knowing what to say, I just stood next to him in silence, for almost an hour. As I was about to walk away to join the camp participants, the young man grabbed me and hugged me. He said, "Thank you. I'll never forget you for just standing with me."

Having had several losses over the years, including the death of our only daughter a few months ago, I have found comfort from those who in sincerity and with compassion have embraced me and simply said, "I love you, I CARE, and if you like, I will pray for you and your family."

I like the idea of Michael expressing a common problem and admitting when you do not have the answer and then asking for comments. This allows us to pool our resources. Michael is in the same boat with us all when dealing with a grieving person, especially when we too are grieving the same loss but to a lesser degree because we are not as close. I like Mr. T's comment of "I'm sorry for your _____. Usually that goes a long way without any offering of anything. If appropriate, a hug, even a long one, is better than words. I personally think offering to bring food over, though well-intentioned, is the last thing to comfort a person with no appetite. Your presence without words may even be the best medicine. Just be there!

I make the person some food and usually say something like, "I know this is a tough time, and I am not going to pretend that I understand or can offer you any wisdom. What I can do is make you some food so you have one less thing to worry about, and if there is anything else I can do to help with the unpleasant logistics by driving someone somewhere, picking things up or otherwise making things a bit easier, please let me know." I also contact other folks on the food thing so we are going by every few days. It is not much, but it is something.

I appreciate this commentary - being someone who many were unsure of what words to use to comfort me not so long ago. I remember some of the phrases written about occurring. I found that it sometimes produced a level of frustration, anxiety or even more sadness to hear about a quality of life or someone's similar situation. Not that I was angry with the messenger, but just frustrated at the fact that regardless of quality of life, it wasn't there for the person I was missing anymore. The fact of the matter, for me, was when I could no longer just simply be with someone who was a part of my heart - someone who cultivated part of who I am, it plain hurt. There was an emptiness that is indescribable. There was the drain of having little emotional control as well. We may all separately feel this in our own way and maybe no one can describe it for the next person. The presence of people -- anyone -- was a huge help and redirection as you, Michael, mentioned. Stories full of laughter or just random acts of kindness were invaluable. I feel it's good to open the discussion about these things because death is as common as birth. It is just that the way these two experiences affect our lives and everyone's emotions are on separate ends of the spectrum. I'm glad you posted this. You have some great points and I feel it's good you brought attention to them.

I worked in the field of grieving people one on one for over 22 years. I agree with Michael and did not find his comments harsh. I understand what Mr. T is saying too, he seems to be thinking from the friend who is trying to help his perspective and he's right as well. Since part of my job was to talk with people after the death of a loved one, they often told me they were so surprised at the awful things people said to them and some of these comments were the same comments Michael mentioned. What the overwhelming majority of grieving people want is their friend to be "in the moment" with them. They often tell me the most helpful thing for a friend to do is to say nothing but to sit or stand close by and wait. Wait for the grieving person to begin talking about their loved one or their feelings and help them to feel validated. Their grief is unique, as well as their thoughts and feelings. Being genuinely compassionate can help a person along in their grief and the opposite is true -- being insensitive can delay the grief and make it more complicated. I realize that most helpers want to help and are not being insensitive on purpose. There's much about feelings we don't know but the grievers themselves can be our teachers if we but listen carefully and compassionately.

Mrs. H.

I am an oncology nurse. I have learned over the years to just simply listen to the person or family. Mostly people want to vent and share their grief. I know there is nothing I can say to make them feel better. I do know people appreciate the kind smile, the gentle hand-holding, and a hug. Human touch goes a long way. I agree with their pain and acknowledge their fears. It is not up to me to judge how people grieve or express pain. Whether physical or emotional, the pain they are experiencing is real to them. Instead of saying, "How are you today?" I say, "It is good to see you!" It is better even to say, "I don't know what to say to make you feel better" than to say nothing at all. You don't have to be witty, insightful, or profound. Just express compassion, look them in the eye, and simply tell them you are sorry they have to go through this. The old saying goes, "People don't remember what you say to them, but they always remember how you made them feel."

Mr. T's harsh comments in his first sentence are way off base. He isn't facing reality. I have seen and experienced a lot of grief and trauma, and each individual handles these things differently. Many times the victim ends up consoling others who begin expressing their own experiences.

I totally agree with Michael Josephson's statement: "...grief isn't an attitude, it is an affliction. It can't be turned off or toned down. It often has to run its course." We all handle adversity differently.

One of the most comforting messages I have ever received was after my son had almost died after a battle with a brain tumor. I was so traumatized that I didn't even want to talk on the phone, much less socialize with anyone. I received a card and note that simply said, "I understand ... Let me know when you feel like getting together. You are in my thoughts and prayers."

Sometimes words aren't even necessary ... just being there is enough.

Thank you, Mr. Josephson. I agree with your advice on what NOT to say to a person who's grieving. And I agree that sincere expressions of love and support help the grieving person keep going with their life.

The one thing I'd add is to be empathetic. To attempt to listen and feel the emotions the grieving person is feeling. This would be unconditional, open acceptance of the grieving person's feelings, even if they might be "self pity, resentment, anger, and fear" as Mr. Josephson says. Listening a lot and maybe reflecting back the feelings you understand the person to be saying.

I think the grieving person is looking for another person who deeply understands what he or she is going through, not a person who'll attempt to blunt the feelings or minimize them.

People know you care most by calling, visiting, having lunch, taking food beyond the first week or two, staying in touch, offering to take the kids (if that is the situation), getting them out of the house, being cheerful but not overbearing. Trying to help them have a normal routine. Just be aware of what is going on.

For not having anything to say, everybody sure had enough to say about this subject.

Like most people, I don't know what to say either, and I tell the grieving person just that. "Just know I will be there for you, whenever you are ready," then follow up with it, as nothing is worse than a so-called friend who when called says, "You still need to talk about this? Let me check my schedule" or something similar. I had a friend who lost a 2-year-old child and was asked two months later, "When are you going to get over this? Get a grip" Trust me, it didn't help.

Truly being there "when" they need you is the best.

It's not about talking. It's about being there for your friends, colleagues, fellow human beings. The most powerful visit I ever had when my husband lost his job and his business partner came from our pastor. He never said a word; he just listened. When my husband and I had stopped talking, my husband said "Thanks so much for coming, it really helped us deal with this." Remember? He had not said a word. He stood up, said "You're welcome," shook my husband's hand, hugged my neck and left. It's what he didn't say that was so powerful. It has stayed with us for these past 18 years.

I hadn't lost anyone very close to me for many, many years. And then that all changed. I lost my brother in an accident, my uncle unexpectedly to heart disease, my mother to breast cancer, my grandparents to old age....all within 2 years' time. I truly felt like the world was coming down around me. A couple of my "close" friends were surprisingly conspicuously absent. They were simply uncomfortable not knowing what to say or do. Most, however, knew that simply being there to listen to me rant, hold me as I cried, help me with simple tasks that were now daunting, etc. was what I needed. I don't hold against my "absent" friends the fact that they didn't know what to do. I realized I could more than likely have been called the same more times in the past than I cared to admit.

More than a few times, I've had people thank me for a bit of unusual advice I tend to give when someone's grieving. Perhaps it's more appropriately called "giving them permission" as opposed to "advise." But I tell people it's okay to simply be pissed off at the world...even at God or whatever power or being they believe in. He can take it and will forgive us in the long run. That it's okay to be angry at anything, anyone and everything and everyone...even the person they've lost! I tell them to get it out of their system. That the anger is part of the process and okay to feel...actually healthy to feel.

I also tell them when people offer to do things for them, LET THEM! When we're grieving, allowing others to do things for us makes them feel better too and gives us the opportunity to spend more time with them! I'm not one who likes others to do things for me. I often feel uncomfortable when the center of attention. But I found that allowing others to become more involved in my strangely disjointed, daily routine made me feel better and made them feel useful.

Perhaps my words, thoughts and actions aren't conventional nor are they vocalized by many, but I find that just about everyone to whom I've spoken afterward thanked me over and over and remembered by words and actions over most of those they experienced.

I'm just sorry that it took me losing some of the most amazing people in order to realize how I could be of help to others...perhaps that's their legacy.

I have lost both my parents and so I know how it feels. I speak from experience when I tell a friend how sorry I am for their loss, but their mother (father, etc.) will always be with them because they will hear them speaking to them in various situations. My father taught me to drive so I often remember things he told me about driving when I am doing so. My mother taught me things as well so when I am sewing or talking to my now-grown children, I remember the things she said to me. It is almost as if she is sitting on my shoulder. I hope my experience will be helpful to others. It doesn't happen right away. At first you miss them a great deal, but over time they return and I find it very comforting.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was amazed at the number of people who sent me cards just letting me know they were thinking and praying for me. Before it happened to me I never would have thought to send a card when I heard someone had cancer. What would I say? Sorry you have cancer? Sounded crass! But each and every one of those cards, some from people who were barely acquaintances, meant a great deal to me. Lesson learned! Never hesitate to let someone know you're thinking of them.

Besides letting someone know you're thinking of them, you also need to SHOW them you care. Actions speak louder than words, right? When I lost my mother to cancer, two friends did the most good for me. One came (unannounced) to mow the lawn, and another came and sat there to answer phone calls and questions and keep the household running. These gestures were beyond helpful and kept me from having to "just ask if I need something." I was allowed to grieve and didn't have to ask for a thing.

I agree with Cathy L's posting. When my father passed, there were no words that could console me, and although there were some words that did warm my heart, if I were to pass those words on to another, who's to say they will be received in the same way? As MJ said, "Is there a right thing to say?" I'd have to say no. Be respectful of the mourner's attitude and wishes. Be there for them when THEY need you.

I've been going through a very difficult marital separation from an abusive and unfaithful spouse and have had much support, mostly good, through this process. Close friends, with the spiritual and emotional strength to be with me while I'm experiencing emotional pain, have been most helpful when they allow me to cry, listen to me tell my story without judging, criticizing or trying to fix me, pray for me and speak encouraging words (words that don't minimize my deep emotional pain, but express hope for my future and note the progress, however limited, that I'm making in working through my grief and anger). Those who have invested much time and attention coming alongside me as my grief unfolded, and ever so gently helped me to take my eyes off of my spouse and refocus my attention onto God, myself and my children, have been especially dear to me. Friends and family with a less intimate bond who may be unaware of the details of my circumstances are most helpful with gestures of practical support, taking me out for a meal, watching the kids, and helping me get settled in a new apartment. And a brief phone call, a card or note by mail, or an email with a bible verse, is a way that friends and family have given me the gift of their presence, even in their absence. These kind gestures help me to know that I'm not alone.

I agree wholeheartedly with Mr. J! Having received training in Grief Counseling, we often feel the need to say something to make ourselves feel better without regard for the deep hurt or loss the other is lost in. When my beloved mother-in-law died, my brother took the opportunity to invite people to his house to swim in his new pool and spoke of his recent hernia surgery. Years have past and yet it still stings that my own brother cared so little of the loss. I have found what works best is to acknowledge the loss, keep the person(s) in my prayers and assist in helping out. We must remember, we are a people of action but must temper that with getting at what the person really needs.

I live by some advice my boss gave me when I was a very young professional when an employee's husband had died. I didn't know what to say and he advised me "Saying something is better than saying nothing at all. If you don't say anything, she will think you don't care." There have been many other good suggestions on this board for being there - no need to be redundant. But a very good idea is remembering and making contact with the survivors weeks, months later - especially on special dates and holidays. I've heard many say that once the initial week or so of public mourning is over, the emptiness really sets in and it is so helpful to have someone come alongside when all the hoopla has subsided.

I am not too sure there is a "100% right" solution. When a friend suffers the loss of a loved one, I send a letter (not an e-mail) suggesting that they remember the positives of their relationship with the person they lost. For example: "Remember the joy you brought him when you ..... Never doubt the pride he had when you....Never forget the enjoyment he had bouncing his grandchildren on his knee. But above all, remember and be grateful for the pride he had in seeing you grow up, graduate from college, marry a wonderful partner and start your own family." There are no formulae. Hallmark cards are empty, but I believe that focusing on the positive somehow numbs much of the pain.

We all need to cry, so stand beside them and let them cry. We get hurt and that's what we all need to do -- cry. Our hearts are broken. The crying is love.

When my baby of 3 months died of SIDS, few knew what to say to my husband or me. They shielded us from their babies and it was awkward. But a dear friend of mine organized a work day at our house with friends; they weeded, repainted the baby room, put up wallpaper, someone even made us a new front door with a stained glass window. Others brought food to support the workers. It was wonderful to have a house that had felt so depressing have a new feel to it, but more importantly, people who didn't know what to say to us stood with us and next to us. Especially men, who said it made them feel so much better to help and it broke the ice on how to be around us again.

I have recently suffered three of the most difficult tragedies of my life. Thus, I now know firsthand what it is to hear and witness people say some of the most hurtful, yet unintended things.

First, I lost all my worldly possessions in Hurricane Katrina. Next, I suffered (and still suffer) the pain of being stereotyped and labeled as a refugee, a victim, a low-life, and other negative names as a result of moving from New Orleans after the storm. Not to mention that I probably have more formal education and life experiences than most who have stereotyped me.

Then my oldest son, at 16, was murdered. Therefore, people have had ample opportunities to offer me many condolences.

I must say that I read this commentary expecting to hear something that would teach me more than what I have learned the hard way. But it didn't really happen. I can still say that going through it the hard way has taught me more than any person could ever teach me.

I have learned that the old saying "Action speaks louder than words" means so much more to me.

It is more comforting for people to not say anything. A smile. A hug. A handshake. These are the things that made me feel better. It was what was NOT said that comforted me more. I learned that people, especially those of us who have not yet suffered a major loss, don't really know what to say. And most times SAY the wrong things.

I hate when people SAY to me, "Call me if you need anything." I don't think most people who have or are suffering are going to call and say, "I'm suffering and I need you."

Instead of SAYING something like that, just hug, kiss, shake a hand, provide a meal, do a chore for, or a multitude of other things.

That's when we know you care. Action speaks louder than words. Nonverbal communication SAYS so much!!

I read something a long time ago about a woman whose husband passed away unexpectedly. She had young children who were old enough to attend the funeral, but they had nothing suitable to wear. A very kind neighbor announced that she would be taking the children shopping and asked when it would be convenient. She didn't spend a lot of money on expensive outfits, but the children each had something suitable to wear to the funeral, which was one less thing the new widow had to worry about. She wrote this article decades after her husband had passed away, but she still remembered that neighbor's kindness.

M. Young, my heart goes out to you. You have had more pain and suffering in a short period of time than most endure in a lifetime. I can only imagine how difficult this has been for you. I commend you on your fortitude. I am sending you love and light and prayers for strength and healing. My brother was killed by a drunk driver at age 12. The loss never goes away, it only becomes more tolerable with time. Also -- I agree, my deceased father (6 days before my 10th b-day mostly as a result of the unresolved anger over my brother's death) said the same thing (a little differently) -- "talk is cheap." And I too feel that an offer to help, if I call, is oftentimes just a nice thing to say -- a brush off usually. Instead I say, show me that you care. Similar to what others have expressed, to me nothing can take the place of face-to-face support. May that be holding the hand of a dying person, a warm hug for the lonely survivor, a comforting word, a strong shoulder to cry on, an ear to truly listen, a good home cooked meal, a scenic drive, something meaningful and tangible that truly says I care. I love you. I am here for you. You are not alone. And I will be here with you and for you over time. When you need me most -- later. I will not fade away. To me that is the right thing to do. My wish to all who are reading this who are in pain is deep peace and solace. May you find the comfort you seek.

I think the best comment is simply "I'm sorry." I have told more than one friend when their parent died that although I didn't know their parent, I knew he or she must have been a wonderful person to have raised such a fine son or daughter. They seem to really appreciate that.

Five years ago, I lost my mother to lung cancer from second-hand smoke. She never smoked, but sadly worked in offices filled with smokers and was married to my chain-smoking father, who also died of lung cancer. I was her caregiver for her two-year painful "march toward death" from that insidious cancer. Besides kind words that helped me get in my grieving, certain unplanned events did the same.

During my first real vacation after her death, I had a the car radio on an oldies station...and found that practically every song about a boy loving or longing for his girlfriend seemed like a son loving or longing for his mom...and it helped me cry...which I needed.

As a caregiver to my mother and to my disabled brother, I was testifying in Sacramento before an Assembly committee on labor and unemployment regarding expanding family medical leave provisions to siblings, grandparents, grandchildren, and parents-in-law who care for their loved ones. In the midst of my testimony, when I mentioned my mom and caring for her, I lost my voice and started to cry before this august panel of legislators...regaining my composure a few moments later...but it was a cry that I needed...but I didn't know that until the events of that day led me there...to that moment.

So...not only take advantage of those people who are there for you during your grief...take advantage of those moments in your life that unfold without warning during your grief...and let those moments take you were you need to be taken...