What’s it feel like, living in the middle of grief?

Honestly, I can only tell you how I experienced it and what it felt like for me. It’s not the same for everyone. The closer you are to that person, the more likely it is to hit you harder. But that’s not a guarantee either.

Jude died in September of 2020 at 13 years old. His death didn’t feel real. Not for a long time. Even though I knew he was gone, it took me months before I could accept it as reality. I half expected him to walk out of his room, flipping his hair out of his face, pointing at me with his two fingers, sharing a moment of Minecraft or some song he and Vinnie coauthored. But it never happened. He was gone.

I share that not because it’s unique, but because I know of at least a few people living in grief right now.

To my friends who are grieving right now; I’d love to say it gets easier as time goes by. But it’s simply not true. For some people it gets easier. For others it’s worse, the remembering becomes a place of constant sorrow. For us GenXers we know that place. It’s the Swamp of Sadness in The Neverending Story. Grief keeps some people stuck. They never quite heal, picking at that scab that’s their grief.

As loved ones and friends I’d say the best way for you to be there is to show up, pay attention, and listen to them. Do not tell them what they need. You have no idea how their loved one’s death is impacting them. Just be there. Show up. Ask them, in a few months from now, how they are doing. Too often people think they know what to say, words of encouragement or advice. To those folks I say shut the hell up and sit with them.

That’s where I think Judaism gets it right. When someone dies, the family sits shiva. For seven days, they don’t cook, they don’t clean, they don’t entertain. They sit low, on stools or the floor, and the community comes to them. Visitors don’t ring the doorbell and wait to be invited in. They walk in, sit down, and say nothing until the mourner speaks first. No fixing. No advice. No “everything happens for a reason.” Just presence. That’s it. That’s the whole practice. Sit down. Stay.

Friends are there, even from a distance. Send the text that just says “thinking of you today.” Show up on their porch and don’t say anything. Mail the card three months from now, when everyone else has stopped calling. That’s not nothing. That’s everything.