What to Say to Someone Who Has Lost a Child

Talking to someone who has lost a child: Often, saying less is more.

Reviewed by Jessica Schrader

Key points

• The grief of a parent who has lost a child has few comparisons.
• Our society is not good at handling death or grief.
• When in doubt, it is better to say little or nothing.

No one makes it through life without losing family members and friends. However, few losses rival that of losing a child. After losing my siblings at an early point in life, as well as my parents later in life, I lost my beloved 26-year-old son Bill to a counterfeit fentanyl overdose. The grief of this loss has been beyond comprehension. Two years after his death, as a parent and a psychologist, I feel that I have learned some lessons about what to say, or rather do, with a friend who has lost a child. Much of this has come from working with a grief therapist, Lisa R. Yeager LICSW, CPTR, who, in turn, has been influenced by the work of Stephen Jenkinson.

We have lost understanding in our disengaged, disconnected culture of how to grieve and how to support others who are grieving. While no culture finds grief easy, there are cultures that accept and include grief and grieving as a normal and important part of life. We as members of this culture have an obligation to offer support to those who are grieving, knowing that our time will come when we need support as well.

When a friend, family member, or patient loses a child, we are aware that the magnitude of their loss is unimaginable, and we are often at a loss for what to do for our loved ones. We are almost always at a loss of what to say in that first encounter with a grieving parent. I would like to point out some things that I have learned are useful, and not so useful, to say. I also want to make the case that it is often best not to say much and rather to demonstrate our compassion through actions.

Less useful things to say or do

My advice about what not to say or do after a loved one has endured a loss is based on my personal experience rather than the literature and some of my advice might sound surprising. The statement that “no parent should have to outlive their child” resonates with truth; however, I became a bit tired of hearing this after the 50th time. This falls into the category of trying to say something profound to a grieving parent, and I suggest that you do not even try. One woman said something like “I feel for your grieving heart”: Please don’t say things like that. I had several acquaintances remark that I am free to call them any time. I found that statement annoying because, often these were people that I would have no desire to have a conversation with during a period of intense grief. It would be much better to say: “Would you mind if text you at some point and see if you are up for a call?” If you are invited to the memorial of the child of one of your friends, you do not have to show up. However, mark my words, if you want to keep this friend, communicate to the parent that you will not be able to attend and provide a meaningful excuse for your absence.

I have been fine with people saying to me “I am sorry” or “I am sorry for your loss,” although I recommend that you leave it at those words for the most part. The phrase “my condolences” was invented for this type of occasion and I found it to be an appropriate sentiment from an acquaintance. However, these are not comforting words from a close friend and the section below might provide some insights in that regard. I do want to point out that Steven Colbert interviewed David Letterman about 10 months ago, after Dana Carvey lost his son Zak to a fentanyl overdose. The two of them looked at the camera and Letterman said, “I want to say hi to Dana Carvey. That’s all.” For me, this was an excellent example of showing compassion without trying to say too much.

It is often better to do rather than to say

Nick Cave is a musician and songwriter who lost his 15-year-old son to a fall off a cliff while on LSD. I heard him interviewed after he lost his son, and he remarked that what people did was often more meaningful than what they said. He related the story of being at a café in his hometown and the cashier was giving him some change. When she did so, she silently held his hand for a brief period. When I went in for my first haircut, my Asian haircutter silently stood in front of me until I stood up and allowed her to hug me. One of my former students took a red-eye flight to Seattle and stayed one day before returning to his busy schedule; that effort meant more to me than I could have fathomed. Shortly after losing my son, my family was paralyzed with grief and a friend delivered a coupon from a food delivery service; we were able to have a meaningful dinner together and that act still resonates with us. Last week I was walking my dog in the local park, and I ran into the mother of one of my surviving son’s friends with a group of women. I had not seen her since losing my son. She immediately gave her dog to one of her friends and told her to walk the dog home. She dropped everything, hugged me, and made a point to make herself available for as long as I wanted. Nonverbally, she was communicating that she simply wanted to spend time to comfort me.

I want to emphasize that a child’s death is agonizing for friends as well as parents and almost everyone wants to be helpful and do the right thing. My advice is personal rather than what might be reflected in the literature. Remember that the grief of losing a child usually lasts a lifetime and it is particularly important to remember/honor anniversaries (the second anniversaries are often worse than the first). Hopefully, I have imparted the wisdom that saying less is often more, and doing is usually better than saying.