When someone you care about loses a loved one, it can feel like you’ve been handed a script in a language you don’t speak. You want to help. You want to say something meaningful. And you definitely don’t want to make things worse. So how do you help when someone is bereaved?
Here’s the thing: supporting someone through grief isn’t about perfect words or grand gestures. It’s about showing up in whatever beautifully human, slightly awkward way you can.
As a celebrant (and someone who has held space for a lot of families in heartbreak), I’ve seen how kindness, presence, and tiny acts of care can make a world of difference. So here’s a guide to help you feel more confident showing up for someone who’s grieving.
Talking to someone who’s grieving can feel like walking across a wobbly rope bridge. There’s no need to overthink it—poetic wisdom isn’t required, and nothing needs fixing. Being real is what actually helps.
A few things that genuinely help when someone is bereaved:
And a gentle reminder: avoid clichés like “They’re in a better place” or “Everything happens for a reason.” Grief doesn’t need silver linings — it needs presence.
You can also affirm their strength without rushing them:

When someone is bereaved, even small everyday tasks can feel like climbing a mountain in gumboots. Practical help is often the most grounding thing you can offer.
Try things like:
If you say, “Let me know if you need anything,” they probably won’t. Grievers don’t tend to delegate chores. Instead, try something specific: “I’m going to the supermarket — can I grab you some basics?” Small, clear offers make a huge difference.

Supporting someone emotionally doesn’t mean you need to become their unofficial therapist. Think of yourself as a soft place to land.
Ways to offer emotional support:
Your job isn’t to cheer them up. It’s to keep showing up, listening, and understanding.
Grief is deeply personal. Some people want to talk; others don’t. Some need distractions; others find them unbearable. Let your friend or loved one take the lead.
Helpful approaches:
Thoughtful words to say instead of rushing or judging:
“Take your time. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve.”
“I can’t imagine how hard this must be, but I’m here for you.”
Tiny gestures can mean everything when you want to help someone who is bereaved. Thoughtful gifts provide something tangible to hold, wrap up in, or reflect on during the hardest days:
Even remembering tricky dates, like the month mark of the death, can be a supportive gesture. Mark it on your calendar and acknowledge it if it feels appropriate — grief doesn’t have an expiry date.

After the funeral, after the visitors go home, after the meals stop arriving — this is when your support becomes gold. People often feel forgotten just as the deep ache settles in.
To truly help when someone who is bereaved……keep checking in:
The goal isn’t to “move them on” — it’s to walk beside them as life slowly expands around the loss.
When my dad, Ogmore, and my (step) dad, Jimmy, passed away within two months of each other at the end of 2025, I learned firsthand how grief messes with your brain, your time, your energy — everything. People would text me the loveliest, most thoughtful messages… and sometimes it took me weeks to reply. Not because I didn’t care, and not because their words didn’t land. They did. In fact, I was checking my phone regularly.
Every ping, every “thinking of you,” every tiny check-in felt like someone reaching out through the fog. Even when I didn’t have the capacity to type anything back — not even an emoji — those messages mattered. They made me feel held. They reminded me that the world hadn’t disappeared under my feet, even though it felt like it had.
So if someone you love is grieving and they don’t reply… don’t assume your message wasn’t appreciated. Sometimes those quiet little check-ins are the thing that keeps a person going. Keep sending them. They’re more powerful than you think.


Grief will touch all of us at some point, and while we can’t prevent the blow, we can hold each other through it with tenderness, humour, honesty, and those perfectly imperfect human gestures that make life bearable.
If you or someone you love is navigating a loss — or planning ahead for end-of-life wishes — you don’t have to do it alone. This is the work I’m called to do. As a funeral celebrant and end-of-life doula, I create ceremonies, conversations, and gentle support that honour the person at the centre of it all. Whether you need a compassionate guide, a steady presence, or simply someone to walk beside you through the hard bits, I’m here.
Reach out anytime — I’m only ever a message away.
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