What Do You Say To Someone Who Is Suffering?

As the co-facilitator of a religious grief support group, I was recently asked what I usually say to someone who has recently suffered a loss. I tell people often I don’t say anything. I don’t have words or a vocabulary that can take away their tears, make them feel less sad, or provide the comfort they are seeking.

I think back to an article I read by David French entitled “Being There.” David French is an attorney and columnist for the New York Times who wrote about something that has haunted him for most of his life and that he reflects on quite often. When he was 18 years old, he received a phone call very late one night from a close friend whose father was very ill and was being rushed to the hospital. French told his friend, “I am so sorry; I am praying for your father,” and then hung up the phone.

The next day, he reached out to his friend but did not receive a response. He continued to try and reach his friend but never got a response. He learned from other friends that his closest friend’s dad had died. French knew he had to pay his respects and attend the funeral services. French walked into the funeral home and offered his condolences. To French’s surprise, his friend looked at him and said Why? I needed you, and you were not there. French, perplexed, did not know what to say. His friend repeated, “I needed you, and you were not there.” David French suddenly realized that all his friend wanted was for him to be present. No words, no dialogue, no need to express his sorrow, just be there. French continues to be haunted by that experience and uses it as a teaching tool. He learned that when someone is hurting or suffering, they are not looking for words to make them feel better. They know we cannot say something that will make them feel comforted. People want a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, someone to listen to them, nod, and say I am here for you.

When my wife passed away, I appreciated the cards and kind words, but I needed someone to listen to me. Someone who would nod, smile, laugh at my stories, and pat me on the back. I wanted someone to know my story and pain. I wanted someone to listen to my stories of the love I shared with my wife. I know there are no adequate words to share, but just being present speaks volumes.

Victor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning was one of the first books I read after my wife died. Think about a man, a psychiatrist living in a concentration camp struggling to find meaning surrounded by the atrocities of war, unbearable suffering, and endless death. Frankel’s words of hope to those in the camp were simple: I cannot control what happens to us, but we can control how we respond to it. If we learn to face the worst thing that happened to us -the loss of our spouses and do it with courage, dignity, and unselfishness, then we can add a deeper meaning to our lives.

The most difficult struggle in losing a loved one is facing tomorrow without them. Yet if we admit we are weak and vulnerable, if we state that the path we now travel is frightening and unknown, and if we take small steps every day by interacting with others and reaching out to a variety of people for help, then we are making great strides in moving forward. I think of the advice an old Baptist minister would share with his congregants who were in pain; he would say to them, “I want more for you.” He encouraged them to find hope in the darkness, find peace despite feeling conflicted, and never surrender to what is temporary. We don’t walk this path alone. We have strength and support from so many around us. No words are necessary, but being present, holding a hand, offering a shoulder, or just listening are the most important things that comfort grieving, suffering, and hurting people.