It was just two months after our daughter, Hope, died. My husband, David, and I found ourselves attending two funerals in one day: one for a baby who had died at birth, and another for a child who had died of the same syndrome our daughter had. I was waiting in line to greet the parents at the first funeral, when it hit me: I have no idea what to say. Of all people, I should know what to say to these friends. But I didn’t. I had no great wisdom that would answer the questions, no soothing truths that would take away the hurt.

Let’s face it — it’s awkward. We want to say something personal, something meaningful, beautiful, helpful, sensitive. Something that demonstrates that we have a sense of what they’re going through. And what we don’t want is to be that person who says the insensitive thing.

Over many years now of interacting with grieving people most of whom emerge from their experience of sorrow bent on setting the world straight on what to say and what not to say to people like themselves — I’ve learned a thing or two that people going through grief wish people understood.

The first and most important thing I have to tell you is this: It matters less what you say than that you say something. The second thing I have to tell you about your desire to know what to say, before we dive into ideas about what to say, is this: even if you come up with the perfect thing to say (as if there is such a thing), it simply won’t fix the hurt or solve the problem of the people who are grieving.

So how do you begin to formulate what you might say when the time comes? It depends on the nature of your relationship with the person. It depends on where that person is in the process of grief. Let’s begin with the basics.

Let the grieving person take the lead⤒🔗

Some people go through the visitation, funeral, or memo­rial service and the days immediately following with a great sense of strength, and they relish the interaction with people who have come around them at this difficult time. Others are worn out, overcome, and can barely converse with those who have come to express sympathy. Determine in advance and discipline yourself in the moment to listen more than you talk. Let the grieving ones be the first to state their feelings or conclusions, and then follow their lead.

Don’t assume←⤒🔗

We tend to assume a lot of things that we probably shouldn’t. Don’t assume that those you are comforting are confident that the deceased is now in heaven. Don’t assume they are relieved to be free of the heavy burden of care for someone who was sick a long time. Don’t assume they want to feel better anytime soon. Don’t assume they want to get married again. Don’t assume that because they are in the throes of loss, they have questions that aren’t being answered or that they feel abandoned by God. Maybe they have much more Scripture-saturated, Holy Spirit-given clarity than you do. Don’t assume.

Don’t compare←⤒🔗

I’m not sure why, but we tend to compare pain: This is harder than that. That would be worse than this. You can’t really compare pain. It all just hurts. So when someone has lost a par­ent to natural causes, don’t suggest that such a loss is so much easier than losing that parent to some other cause of death. When a couple loses an unborn child, don’t say that it would be so much harder to lose a child who had lived with them.

Don’t feel the need to fix←⤒🔗

We hate loose ends. We want to end every conversation with everyone smiling and assured that everything will be just fine. But that’s not always reality, and sometimes what people need is to wrestle for a while with the ugliness and uncertainties rather than feel better and move on. Offering real comfort to those who are grieving is not about leaving them with a happy thought, but more about accepting where they are, whether that be happy or sad, confident or confused.

Don’t be in a hurry←⤒🔗

There might be lots of things you hope to talk about with a grieving person. But don’t be in a hurry. Think of it as more like a marathon than a sprint. The day of the tragedy or the day of the visitation or funeral is not the time for talking through everything that will make sense of the loss and get that person on the road toward recovery. It is the time for simply coming alongside and being a companion in the sad­ness and questions.

Don’t make it about you←⤒🔗

To be honest, I have a hard time believing some of the stories I’ve been told about people who, in the midst of the most difficult days of grief, added to the pain of those grieving by getting offended or complaining about not being included or consulted, by needing credit for all they were doing to help, or by seeking attention through their previous involvement with the deceased. But the only story that needs to be told is theirs — at least until you are invited to share yours.

Listen more than you talk←⤒🔗

I know it’s awkward. And many of us tend to want to fill up the awkward silence with many words. Yes, there will prob­ably be an interaction requiring words in the receiving line. But if you hang around a little more, don’t be afraid to simply be with the grieving person — sitting on a park bench or porch swing, going fishing, taking a drive, working in the garden, folding the laundry, baking some cookies — growing in your comfort with silence, giving the gift of quiet and unassuming companionship.

Don’t tell them what to do←⤒🔗

When we interact with those thrust into the unknowns of grief and we want to help, we can sometimes assume a parental tone, telling them what they need to do or not do. Some people become instant preachers, experts, spiritualists, mothers, and advice dispensers in situations of grief. They tell the grieving person what he must remember, what he must do, what he must read, what he must avoid, what grief is going to be like, the counselor he needs to see, the medication he needs to take, the trip he needs to go on, the way he should think, act, and feel.

And here’s the rub: you may be exactly right! But rather than talk down to him like a parent to a child, come alongside him to figure things out. Instead of giving an instruction as an authority, you might float a “I wonder if...” idea as a friend and see if it is taken hold of.

Esteem their grief←⤒🔗

When we’re grieving, we want to sense that the person we’re talking to recognizes how significant our loss is, and what we really don’t want is to sense that our loss is being minimized or dismissed as somehow less than. We minimize others’ loss when we talk about what could be worse, implying that they should be grateful instead of sad, or when we seem to assume that because the deceased had lived a long life or had been sick for a long time or was not that close of a relation, the grieving one should not be quite so sad.

Even if you have experienced a very similar loss to that of the person you’re talking to, make the choice to diminish your experience and esteem their loss.

Don’t be put off by tears←⤒🔗

While tears can be awkward for everyone, tears are really such a gift. Tears have a way of washing away or carrying away the toxicity of the pain or grief. To shed tears is to release the tension and get the pain out in the open where it can be dealt with. When someone cries in your presence, don’t be afraid that you made her cry. You don’t have to apologize. You did not make her cry; you simply brought to the surface what was there anyway and needed to be released.

Along with this, don’t assume that what they really need is to be cheered up. It is a great gift to grieving people if those around them can be comfortable with their sadness, to not assume their sadness is a problem but rather that the deceased was of such value that their absence justifies great sorrow.

Don’t ask potentially painful questions out of curiosity←⤒🔗

Unless someone tells you that the deceased died by taking his or her own life, even when you may suspect it, don’t ask. And if you are told, yet without details, don’t ask. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. The same principle applies for deaths of all kinds. When someone dies, don’t ask if he was wearing a seatbelt. Don’t ask if she was a smoker. If the grieving person initiates a conversation about the spiritual condition of the deceased, then feel free to engage, sharing his sense of relief or his disappointment as the case may be. But don’t ask.

Remember that when you’re talking to those who witnessed the death or the dead body of someone they love, they have vivid mental pictures that come to mind when they talk about it. Their memories may include grimaces of pain, cries of agony, struggling for breath. Their mental pictures may be very bloody or very bleak and evoke feelings of regret and helplessness. Don’t force them to relive those painful scenes in order to satisfy your curiosity.

But — and this is very important — be the kind of friend who is willing to listen when and if they do want to talk about those hard moments or the gruesome scene or the feelings of regret. Hopefully they will be able to do so at some point with somebody. If it is you, listen and let your heart be broken with theirs, and then keep the details to yourself. Such personal sharing is too sacred to be shared.