When Words Hurt

Today, we are going to tackle a difficult topic: Things that are not helpful to those who are grieving. If it happens that you recall saying something similar, please don’t beat yourself up. It is very difficult to watch someone carrying such pain and not being able to help them. As onlookers, we feel so helpless and often are grasping for words that might bring comfort. We hate to see those we love hurting.

After our son died, I was shocked by some of the things that people said to us. During the last almost six years, we have learned that we are not the only parents to have heard such remarks as:

If your faith had been stronger, your child wouldn’t have died.

I know how you feel, my house burned down.

It’s obvious that you love your dead child more than your living child.

If you had lived a more Christian life, your child wouldn’t have died.

The reason you can’t get a promotion is because you talk about your dead child too much.

When are you going to get over it?

I know how you feel, my dog died.

I hear that most couples who lose a child usually divorce.

I know how you feel, I have been dealing with chronic illness or physical pain.

God only chooses the prettiest flowers.

All things work together for the good of those who love the Lord.

God gives the toughest battles to His strongest soldiers.

Watching someone hurt is hard. In all likelihood, the people who said these things, thought they were helping. In some cases, by empathizing, in others with some constructive criticism to encourage the grieving to move on. It’s hard enough to watch someone else’s pain; it’s harder when we know that pain is life-changing and will likely require quite some time to heal.

The hardest thing I have ever done was watching as my son took his last breath. It’s excruciating. The second hardest thing has been watching my husband and my daughter hurt and not being able to take away their pain. 

When we finally decided to brave the world again, imagine our surprise to hear some of the above remarks. The truth is absolutely no one knows how anyone else feels. My husband and I lost the same child, and I have no idea how that feels for him. He is a father. I am a mother. The relationship that we each had with Joshua was different. We grieve the same child; our pain is different. 

To be honest, I fear that before I faced such a devastating loss, I may have said some of the same cliché expressions. I am certain that I have hurt people with my words that were intended to bring comfort. I didn’t know. 

I know now.

The truth is there are some situations where there are no words that are going to help. No matter how hard we try, our words will not improve the situation. The most helpful thing we can say is, “I’m praying for you,” “I’m thinking about you and your family,” or “I love you.”

If you feel like you must say more, share a personal story that includes their child’s name, a memory about their child that you will cherish. 

Generally, parents who are grieving learn quickly that no one intentionally sets out to add to their pain. They learn to let go of the hurtful things and hold on to those moments that helped them heal. They forgive because after the loss of a child, what used to cause drama is now inconsequential. Their perspective on life has changed. And they know, unless you too have faced every parent’s worst nightmare, it is impossible to understand the depth of the pain. And they pray you never do.

Again, for those of you who continue to walk alongside the grieving, thank you. I pray God blesses you abundantly. You have chosen to serve in a way that is difficult and time-consuming, while often being unappreciated. I know I have said it before, but it bears saying again. When the fog clears, you will be the hero. That is probably not the reason you choose to help, but you need to know the blessing that you are to those you serve.