You can’t fix someone else’s grief. But you can help.

What to say (and not say) when someone is grieving or dying

Ever since I trained as a death doula, opened a hospice, and started Hello, Mortal, I’ve received countless messages from people who know someone who is grieving—and have no idea what to say or do. It’s come from friends, acquaintances, readers and total strangers, all of whom want to know: What do I say? How do I help?

I love helping people—it’s why I got into this space in the first place—so I’m happy to offer support. With all my personal and professional experience with death, you’d think that I’d be fully equipped to respond. And on one level, I 100% am. But on another, I still doubt myself, and I still feel unsure and ultimately powerless in the face of another person’s deepest pain.

I share this vulnerable truth because I want you to know that if you’ve ever felt this way, you’re not alone. In fact, that’s what prompted this piece. Because if even I—a death doula and former hospice director—still freeze, worry, and sweat over the exact phrasing, how can we expect someone who’s never been trained or exposed to death to know what to say?

If you’re reading this, chances are someone you care about is grieving a person who they loved very much. Whether the death happened six days, weeks, or months ago, when you heard about it, your heart probably dropped into your stomach, and your eyes welled up, or your palms got sweaty. Or you might have immediately felt awkward and uncomfortable. You want to help, but probably feel powerless because you can’t fix grief.

We so want to fix it and make it better. To alleviate the person's pain. To bring back their loved one. But we can’t. And while our efforts are well-intentioned, we often freeze up or trip over our words and actions when trying to offer what support.

Chances are, it goes something like this: You say something awkward unintentionally, and immediately regret it. Or you Google ‘what to say to someone whose [parent/sibling/spouse/child] just died’ and get overwhelmed by the search results before giving up. Maybe you stared at a memorial Instagram post for 15 minutes, wondering if it was weird to comment “I love you,” but you were too scared, so you just put a heart emoji instead. Or maybe you considered dropping off food, but decided not to because what if they don’t want to see anyone? Or maybe you spent 20 minutes agonizing over drafting the perfect text, but then second-guessed yourself because you didn’t want to add to their pain by saying the wrong thing.

So you end up doing nothing, or doing what feels like the wrong thing.

And if this hasn’t happened to you yet, it’s coming—death is 100% guaranteed.

This stuff is hard, and we tend to overthink it because we were never given the script or the tools to process and support grief (especially in a death-denying culture like America). Cut yourself some slack for any past faux pas or canned messages of sympathy, and then take the time to familiarize yourself with what grieving people generally need (and what they don’t). This is important, because we all deserve better. Better support. Better communication. Better tools. We need to stop leaving people to navigate the worst days of their lives in silence because we’re afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. Consider this short guide your starting point. It will give you some similar directives, but more importantly, it’s meant to help you tune into your own empathy and intuitive sense of how you can best support. I hope this guidance will be helpful, tomorrow or years from now.

The next time someone you care about is suffering, my hope is that you will feel a little less stuck, and they will feel a little less alone. Because above all, that’s what a grieving person really needs: to know that they’re not alone in their pain.

What would a death doula say?

Over the weekend, I got a text from a family friend whose husband was actively dying.

She wanted to know if the Lily House—the hospice I helped open—had room. Immediately, I jumped into action and contacted my former colleagues to see if they could take him. I didn’t want her to have to spend her precious last days with her husband, calling and chasing down availability. That moment of usefulness felt good. Unfortunately, my friend’s husband died before we could get him transferred, but over the weekend, when he was actively dying, we stayed in touch the entire time.

Once the logistics faded, all I could offer were my words of support. That’s when doubt began to creep in. Am I overstepping by sending this message? Will this come across in the right tone over text? Etc. I didn’t want to add to her pain, but silence felt worse.

So I said something.

I did the best I could to support her by remembering how I felt during a similar intense and fragile time, when I was at the bedside of my mother, dying. I also recalled the countless other people I've had the honor of sitting vigil with and shared what I’ve seen be the most helpful to them.

“They say hearing is often the last sense to go,” I told her. “So keep talking to him, even if he seems unresponsive.” I added in a more practical note: “The nurses should have sponge sticks to help with dry lips and mouth—because no one wants cracked lips when they’re dying.”

I even gave her examples of words she could say to her husband, because as I’ve mentioned, most people don’t know what to say, whether it’s to a grieving person or someone who they love that is dying, and it’s not their fault! Here’s an example of words you could say to someone you're with at the 11th hour:

“I want to tell you it’s ok to go.

I’m here. I love you, and you are free now.

Free from the tired body and the breath that comes hard.

I’ll carry your stories and say your name.

I’ll be sad, angry, grateful, and lost, but I will be ok.

Because you loved me and you let me love you back.”

My intention wasn’t to steer her, but to give her space and permission to speak from her heart. She welcomed it, and in that exchange, I felt the quiet relief of having shown up in the right way.

Grief etiquette

Let’s be clear: there’s no perfect thing to say—presence is always what matters most—but there are a few things that tend to help. And a few things that really, really don’t.

Things that almost always don’t help (even if you mean well):

• “At least…” Just stop right there. Nothing good follows those two words. This isn’t the time to look on the bright side.

• “God has a plan,” or “Everything happens for a reason.” Unless the grieving person has explicitly said that’s comforting to them, don’t assume.

• Don’t ask open-ended questions like “What can I do to help?” They probably don’t know what they need, and asking them to figure it out puts an extra burden on them, which is exactly what they don’t need.

• “They’re in a better place.” For the departed loved one? Maybe. For the person grieving? Absolutely not.

• “You should see a therapist,” “You should move,” etc. Now is not the time for unsolicited advice. If they come to you later asking for support resources, that’s your green light to chime in.

• Saying nothing at all because you’re afraid of saying something that will make their pain worse.

Things that actually do help:

• Do ask about specifics: “Would it be okay if I dropped food off Wednesday night?” or “Can I come over and fold laundry while we talk?” Be clear and provide practical support.

• Just showing up. Bring coffee. Organize a meal train. Walk their dog. Offer house cleaning. Mow the lawn. Sit on the couch. Be the person who keeps showing up.

• Resist the urge to gift random things unless meaningful and appropriate. Most people don’t need another candle. What they need is cash, time off, childcare, or a vacation.

• When the fog starts to lift, invite them into an act of creation. Grief lives in the body as much as the brain, and using your hands—kneading dough, painting, gardening—can move emotion without words. You can even cook their person’s favorite recipe together.

• Default to presence over platitudes. Nothing you say or do can fix their pain, but you can be a steady, quiet presence beside it. Don’t underestimate the power of simply sitting in silence with someone. And when it doubt, just fucking say it: this fucking sucks! It’s likely to bring a tear and a laugh.

• Try not to take it personally. Someone grieving might behave in ways you aren’t used to. They may be angry, shut down, or acting unlike themselves. That’s not personal—it’s pain trying to metabolize itself. Experiencing the loss of someone you love can be like a traumatic brain injury. Let them be messy.

• Invite a story. “Can I ask you about a favorite memory of (insert person's name)?” It opens the door without pushing.

• Keep checking in. Grief doesn’t expire after two weeks, and neither should you. Put the death date, birthday, and other key milestones in your calendar, and reach out when everyone else forgets. I still appreciate the texts I get from friends on the anniversary of my mom’s death and her birthday, but over the years, those have dwindled.

• After the initial shock has faded, invite them outside for a slow walk or hang out in nature. Feeling the sun on your face or the sound of birds—all of it can help re-regulate the nervous system. You might have to coax them, but that’s ok, just do it gently.

When in doubt, come back to this post, phone a friend, or send me a DM. You don’t have to be in your head about it. Another great resource is HelpTexts. You can purchase their services as a gift for someone in need or for yourself.

Ultimately, I hope and encourage you to trust your instincts. You know your grieving person better than I, Google, or some stranger on TikTok. That means you’ll be able to comfort them better, too.

An invitation for you before you go

What words of support have stayed with you during intense moments of grief? What messages or actions helped you feel held, seen, and heard or missed the mark completely? Whether you were the one grieving or offering comfort, I’d love to hear what made a difference.

Let’s build a library of grief literacy, together. If you’re looking to go deeper on the topic of grief and love books, check out our recommended grief reads. And if this piece made you think of someone, send it their way. It might be just what they need.

– Maura