What to Do When Someone Loses a Loved One: 5 Ways to Help

I think a lot of us have been there.

You hear that someone has lost their mum, dad, sibling, spouse or someone incredibly dear to them, and immediately you think:

I don’t know what to say.

So you say nothing.

You don’t call because you don’t know what the call is supposed to sound like. You don’t send the message because every sentence you type feels inadequate. And sometimes, especially when you’ve never experienced a significant loss yourself, you genuinely don’t know how to show up.

I know because I have been that person.

Years ago, someone I knew lost her dad.

We weren’t friends. She was more of an acquaintance, but I knew what had happened and I thought about reaching out.

I just didn’t know what to say.

So I said nothing.

Looking back now, I realise I could simply have said, “I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m thinking of you.”

That would have been enough.

But at the time, I hadn’t experienced a loss that close to me, and I didn’t understand grief. I didn’t know how to act around it.

Then, the following year, my childhood friend lost her dad.

I remember hearing the news, dropping what I was doing and rushing to her.

When I saw her, my God.

I had never seen my friend in so much pain.

I wanted desperately to take it away from her, and for the first time I understood that there was absolutely nothing I could say that would do that.

So I sat with her.

And we cried.

We cried and cried and cried.

Eventually, the crying stopped. The pain hadn’t disappeared. Her dad was still gone. Everything was still incredibly raw.

But I was there.

And I think, in that moment, that was what mattered.

Then I lost my own dad.

And grief taught me things I don’t think anyone could have explained to me beforehand.

You remember things when someone you love dies.

You remember the people who called.

You remember the people who checked.

You remember the people who knew and said nothing.

You remember kindness.

And you remember absence.

If you’ve read what I’ve written previously about losing my dad, you’ll know that I believe God prepared me for his death in so many ways. One of those ways was preparing me to manage my expectations of people.

Before my dad died, someone I followed had spoken publicly about losing her mother. She talked about some of the things people did during that period that hurt her and how she eventually had to let those things go.

I didn’t know it then, but I think God was preparing me.

Because when my dad died, there were things people did that upset me too.

One of the first was seeing an obituary someone had posted about him.

They had his date of birth wrong. They had his age wrong.

And it hurt me.

I remember thinking: You were in such a rush to announce that this man had died that you couldn’t even get his details right.

But I also had to give people grace.

My dad was Muslim. Things had to move incredibly quickly. Had he died in Nigeria, he probably would have been buried the following day. People were trying to communicate information quickly while arrangements were happening quickly.

Grief taught me that people don’t always get it right.

And sometimes, grace is necessary.

But losing my dad also taught me something else:

There are practical ways to show up for someone who is grieving.

You don’t need perfect words.

You don’t need to understand exactly how they feel.

You don’t even necessarily need to be very close to them.

You just need to care enough to do something.

Here are five things I have learned.

1. Send the message

Please don’t let “I don’t know what to say” become the reason you say nothing.

You don’t need a beautifully written condolence message.

You can simply say:

I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m thinking about you.

Or:

I know this is an incredibly difficult time. I’m praying that God covers you and gives you strength through this season.

Or simply:

My condolences. I’m thinking of you and your family.

That’s it.

Especially if you have experienced grief yourself, this isn’t the time to keep score.

“Well, they didn’t call me when mine happened.”

“They didn’t send me anything.”

“They weren’t there for me.”

Please let it go.

Since losing my dad, whenever I hear that someone I know has lost a parent, I try to reach out, even acquaintances.

Some people have actually seemed surprised to hear from me because they didn’t reach out when my dad died.

But I understand something now that I didn’t understand years ago.

I was once the person who didn’t know what to say.

So I choose grace.

Your small message might mean far more than you realise.

2. Send food

This is such a practical form of love.

If you’re close enough to the person, cook for them.

Send a meal.

Buy the snacks you know they like.

If they have children, perhaps send something the children can eat too.

Do whatever is within your capacity. You don’t need to break the bank or arrive with a month’s worth of groceries.

Grief makes ordinary things difficult.

Cooking dinner suddenly feels like a task.

Deciding what everyone should eat feels like a task.

Going grocery shopping feels like a task.

Food removes one thing from a very long list of things they suddenly have to think about.

Sometimes love looks like saying:

You don’t need to worry about dinner today. I’ve got it.

3. Be present

If this is someone you’re genuinely close to, sometimes you need to physically show up.

Not necessarily to talk.

Not necessarily to cheer them up.

Just to be there.

Recently, my cousin lost her mum.

My cousin and I have a beautiful relationship, and I know her well enough to know that when something like that happens, her instinct might be to retreat.

I sent her a message first and checked on her. Then I called her husband.

I told him, “I know your wife probably doesn’t want anybody around.”

But I told him I was giving her until Friday.

After that, I was coming.

Even if she stayed upstairs and I sat downstairs, I was going to be there.

And I’m so glad that my cousin allowed herself to receive love.

There were so many people who wanted to pour love into her, and she allowed them.

Because eventually, things get quiet.

People return to work. The calls become less frequent. Everyone goes back to their lives.

And you’re left with your thoughts.

But hopefully, somewhere in those quiet moments, you remember how deeply you were loved when everything first fell apart.

Presence matters.

4. Give financially if you can

This is something I’ve learned to become increasingly intentional about, particularly when someone loses a parent abroad or has to arrange an international funeral.

Funerals are expensive.

Travel is expensive.

Transporting a loved one can be expensive.

There are suddenly so many costs appearing at exactly the same time that a family is trying to process the fact that somebody they love is gone.

When my dad died in the UK, people showed up for my brother and me in an extraordinary way.

The generosity surrounding us meant so much.

And it changed how I think about giving when someone dies.

I don’t care whether that person gave me money when I had an event.

I don’t care whether they contributed when something happened in my life.

Grief is not where I want to keep score.

Give what is within your capacity.

Sometimes the amount isn’t what the grieving person remembers.

They remember that you thought of them.

5. Check again

This one matters so much.

Don’t only check during the first week.

Check again.

Two weeks later.

Three weeks later.

A month later.

On the birthday.

Around the funeral.

When everybody else has stopped calling.

Depending on how close I am to someone and how they’re coping, I sometimes actually put a reminder in my calendar to check on them again.

Because life continues for everybody else very quickly.

But for the person grieving, their life has changed.

And grief doesn’t disappear because the funeral is over.

Sometimes the second, third or fourth message is the one that arrives when they need it most.

So check again.

You don’t need the perfect words

Maybe that’s the biggest thing losing my dad taught me.

Before I experienced grief, I thought showing up required knowing what to say.

It doesn’t.

Sometimes it’s a text.

Sometimes it’s food.

Sometimes it’s money.

Sometimes it’s sitting beside someone while they cry until there are no more tears left for that day.

And sometimes it’s remembering to check three weeks later when everybody else has gone quiet.

I still think about that acquaintance whose dad died and how I didn’t reach out.

I wish I had.

But I also give that younger version of myself some grace because she genuinely didn’t understand.

I understand now.

And perhaps that’s why I try to do things differently today.

So if someone you know has just lost someone and you’re sitting there staring at your phone thinking, I don’t know what to say…

Say this:

I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m thinking of you.

Start there.

You don’t have to take their pain away.

You can’t.

You just have to make sure they don’t feel completely alone while they’re carrying it.

With Love,

Ayo