It can be hard to know what to say to someone who has experienced a loss or tragedy. We want to offer the right words of comfort, but they aren’t always easy to find
Through my own experience of loss, I learned some valuable lessons. To explain them, I first need to share my story.
In 2001, I was pregnant with our first child. Like most first-time mothers, I was thrilled about welcoming a child into our home. I loved being pregnant, and as the pregnancy advanced, I was excited to feel the baby kicking inside me.
That joy ended abruptly one morning when I began to bleed. My in-laws rushed me to the hospital, where I was told I would likely lose our baby. Before being transferred to another hospital, I called my husband, Brad. All I remember from that call is him weeping on the other end of the phone.
At North York General Hospital, I was put on anti-labour drugs. The contractions stopped, and we felt a bit of hope. We prayed for God’s will, and while we truly meant it, we also told God how much we wanted that baby.
On October 27, 2001, I gave birth to our son, Samuel. He lived briefly, then died in Brad’s arms.
The following year, I got pregnant again. Doctors addressed the issue that had contributed to Samuel’s premature birth. Three months into my pregnancy, I was placed on complete bed rest. We were hopeful that this pregnancy would end well, and we prayed, along with our family and friends, that I would successfully deliver that baby. But in my fifth month, I once again went into labour. This time, however, my water broke, and our baby girl, Hannah Faith, was stillborn.
Despite the sorrow, God granted me a peace that passes understanding, just as he promised in Philippians 4:7. I have never felt as much peace as I did while going through the deaths of our first two babies.
After returning home from hospital the second time with empty arms, we received cards and condolences, but nothing near to the same extent we did after Samuel died.
I noticed the difference, but I didn’t understand it until much later during a conversation with a friend. She told me she hadn’t reached out earlier because she didn’t want to bother us. I don’t remember the rest of what she said, but I came to realize that she didn’t know what to say.
I understand, because I’ve been that person too, wanting to say the right thing, and because I wasn’t sure what to say, saying nothing at all.
But through that experience, I learned something important:
Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words.
I have come to realize that saying something is always better than saying nothing. Even if that something is simply, “I don’t know what to say,” and sometimes it doesn’t even have to be words, but could be a hug or some kind of acknowledgement of seeing what you are going through.
By God’s grace and kindness, we were eventually gifted with our son George. Three years later, we had another beautiful gift by the name of Josiah.
We all grieve differently, yet the Bible tells us,
“Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12:15)
Weeping with another person doesn’t require words.
Even though I learned this lesson many years ago, I still need to remind myself how important it is to acknowledge people in their pain, even when we don’t know what to say. Our presence means more than perfectly crafted words.
So, what shouldn’t you do when someone is grieving? Whatever you do, don’t do nothing.