How to Support a Grieving Friend (Without Fixing Them)

A gentle guide for those who want to help, but don’t know how! Not many people talk about how to support someone who’s grieving. We talk about grief itself, how it breaks us open, how it lingers but we rarely talk about the people standing nearby. The ones who love us and want to help, but feel awkward, unsure, afraid of saying the wrong thing. There’s not much language for that role in our society. We have rituals for mourning, but not for accompaniment. And so, most people stay silent. Or worse, they try to fix what cannot be fixed. But grief doesn’t need fixing. It needs witnessing...

I’ve been on both sides of this. I’ve grieved, and I’ve sat beside those who grieve. And what I’ve learned through experience, through the teachings of Tara Brach and Kristin Neff, through quiet moments that changed me is that the most powerful support we can offer is presence. Not advice. Not solutions. Just presence.

Let me tell you a story....

A few years ago, a close friend lost her mother. I went to visit her, unsure of what to say. She made tea for both of us, but neither of us drank it. It just sat there, cooling slowly between us. I kept reaching for words something comforting, something wise, but everything felt too small. So I stayed quiet. Eventually, she looked at me and said, “I’m glad you didn’t try to make it better.” That moment taught me that silence, when held with love, can be the most healing sound.

We live in a culture that’s uncomfortable with pain. We rush to cheer people up, to distract them, to offer silver linings. But grief is not a mistake. It’s love in its rawest form. And when we try to fix it, we unintentionally send the message that it’s wrong. That it needs to be changed.

So if you’re wondering how to support a grieving friend, here’s what I want to offer not a checklist, not a script, but a way of being. A way of loving that doesn’t rush or rescue, but gently holds space.

Let Go of the Need to Fix...

Kristin Neff teaches that compassion begins with acceptance. When your friend is grieving, they don’t need you to steer them out of the storm. They need you to be a steady shore. A place where they can land, cry, rage, or say nothing at all.

Instead of saying “You’ll feel better soon,” try “I’m here with you.” Instead of offering solutions, offer presence.

Ground Yourself First

Before you reach out, take a moment to breathe. Supporting someone in grief can stir up your own discomfort. A short mindfulness practice can help you show up with steadiness and warmth.

Try this:

• Close your eyes and place a hand on your heart.

• Whisper inwardly: May I meet this moment with compassion. May I offer presence, not solutions.

Help in the Mundane

After a friend lost her unborn child to miscarriage, I went over to help with chores. She hadn’t touched the laundry in weeks. I didn’t ask questions, I just started folding. Halfway through, she sat beside me and said, “I didn’t know how to ask for help. Thank you for just doing it.”

Grief often hides in the mundane. Cooking, cleaning, replying to messages it all becomes a mountain. If you want to help, offer something specific and low-pressure.

Examples:

• “Can I drop off dinner this week?”

• “I’m heading to the market, can I pick up anything?”

• “Would it help if I handled a few errands for you?”

And if they say no, that’s okay. Your offer is a gesture of love, not a transaction. Stay, Even When It’s Quiet

One of the hardest parts of grief is how quickly the world moves on. The calls slow down. The messages fade. People assume you’re “doing better.” But grief doesn’t follow a calendar. It lingers. It revisits. It reshapes itself over time.

Months after my father died, my friend sent me a message: “Thinking of you today. No need to reply.” I called her later and said, “Everyone stopped checking in after the funeral. Your message made me feel remembered.”

Be the friend who stays. Remember anniversaries, birthdays, the quiet milestones. Your continued presence says, “I haven’t forgotten. I’m still here.” Reflect on Your Own Relationship with Grief

Supporting someone through grief will stretch you. It might awaken your own sorrow. Let it. Let yourself be softened. As Tara Brach says:

“The boundary to what we can accept is the boundary to our freedom.”

Gentle prompts:

• What makes me uncomfortable about grief?

• How do I respond when someone I love is hurting?

• What does “being present” mean to me?

  
  

❌ What Not to Say (With Compassionate Alternatives) Sometimes we say things with good intentions that land poorly. Here’s a guide:

Instead of saying...	Try saying...
“At least they lived a long life.”	“I imagine you miss them deeply.”
“Everything happens for a reason.”	“This must feel so unfair.”
“You’re so strong.”	“It’s okay to not be okay.”
“Let me know if you need anything.”	“Can I bring you dinner tomorrow?”

May you walk gently beside those who grieve. May your presence be a balm. May you trust that love, not fixing, is the medicine. May you stay, even when it’s quiet. May you be changed by the tenderness of it all. If you reached the end of the blog I am sure this spoke to you, consider sharing it with someone who’s navigating grief or someone who’s trying to support them.

We heal in circles, not in isolation.

And if you’ve been that steady presence for someone, thank you. The world needs more of you.

With tenderness and presence,

Anjali Mahalke