The Advice That Doesn't Help
People love to give advice when you’re grieving.
Especially people who have never lost someone they couldn’t live without.
They mean well. I know they do. But the advice they give is useless at best and damaging at worst.
Here’s what I’ve heard:
“Everything happens for a reason.”
No. It doesn’t. Sometimes terrible things just happen. There’s no grand plan. No hidden lesson. No reason that makes this okay.
“They’re in a better place.”
Are they? Because I’d rather have them here. In this place. With me.
“Time heals all wounds.”
Time doesn’t heal grief. It just makes you better at carrying it. The wound is still there. It’s just not bleeding as visibly.
“God needed another angel.”
God can have all the angels he wants. I needed them here.
“Stay strong.”
I’m not strong. I’m barely standing. And telling me to be strong just makes me feel like I’m failing when I fall apart.
“At least you had time with them.”
At least? There is no “at least” in this. They’re gone. And no amount of time we had makes that okay.
“You need to move on.”
Move on to what? A life without them? I don’t want that life. I never asked for that life.
“They wouldn’t want you to be sad.”
Maybe not. But they’re not here. And I am sad. And that’s allowed.
“Just stay busy. Keep yourself distracted.”
You can’t outrun grief. It doesn’t matter how busy you are. It’s still there waiting for you.
Here’s what people who haven’t lost someone don’t understand:
There are no magic words that make this better. There’s no advice that fixes it. There’s no timeline that makes it go away.
Grief isn’t a problem to solve. It’s not something you can think your way out of or positive-attitude your way through.
It’s loss. Permanent, devastating loss. And all the well-meaning advice in the world doesn’t change that.
So, if you want to help someone who’s grieving, stop giving advice.
Stop trying to fix it. Stop trying to make it make sense. Stop trying to rush them through it.
Just sit with them. Listen. Say “this is awful and I’m sorry.” And then stop talking.
That’s it. That’s what helps.
Just your presence. Your willingness to sit in the hard stuff without trying to make it easier.
Because the truth is, you can’t make it easier.
You can only make it less lonely.
And that’s the only thing that actually helps.