What to say to someone who lost a child?

Maybe we’re too afraid of saying the wrong thing and silence is better than awkwardness. Maybe it’s because death is so common and impossible to compartmentalize, strategize, or figure out our way out that we choose to avoid it altogether, keeping us safely next to the vault rather than making us sick.

But now is a good time to talk about it. November 21 is Children’s Suffering Awareness Day. November is Children’s Grief Awareness Month. And next week is Thanksgiving, there will be empty chairs, missing people, and also those left unfinished with a sadness of their own. Then the holidays, a time centered around joy, gifts, and children.

Children grieve for their parents, and many parents grieve for their children. Almost 37,000 children die each year in the United States before they turn 18. I talked to Amy Kremer; Her 15-year-old son, Jeremy, died by suicide at his home in Arlington a decade ago, on the cusp of his sophomore year of high school. I live in Arlington and I remember seeing the headline, reading the story, being shocked, and then going about my day. There’s a reassuring little cliffhanger of “I’m so glad this isn’t me” and “I can’t imagine.” I had a small child at that time. I couldn’t go there.

But then I thought about my grandmother.

My Uncle Marshall died at age 13. Actually, it feels weird to call him my uncle because we’ve never met. He drowned at summer camp long before I was born. I never once heard my grandmother say his name. I wish I had asked him about that when he was alive. I was young when he died; That day I was just thinking about myself and where I would sit for lunch. Who was he? What was he like? But even then, when I was 16, I also knew: This wasn’t something you asked. It’s not something you mentioned.

Now, as an adult with my own teenage child who goes to summer camp, I realize that by wanting to know more about him, I wasn’t going to remind him that he never came home.

Today Kremer is a certified grief educator and Merciful FriendsA volunteer-driven support group for parents who have lost a child and siblings who have lost a sibling. The Boston chapter (with branches all over the world) meets monthly and has been providing for its family for years. In each episode, holidays are celebrated with a candle-lighting ceremony; This year, on Sunday, December 8, at 19.00. If you need support or know someone who does, visit: www.tcfboston.org.

Here is what he wants people to know and say in situations where language seems inadequate but humanity is essential.

Losing a child is a completely unique pain. When talking to someone who has lost a child, do not falsely mourn the loss with stories of an elderly relative. Loss flattens you – I know; My mother died three years ago, but losing a child is a different universe of pain. All sorrow is valid and real; this particular brand also seems chronologically brutal.

“Losing a child or grandchild is outside the natural order of events. “We expect them to live longer than us, to see them reach adulthood and have careers and families of their own,” he says.

A parent doesn’t just bear the loss of his child. They mourn decades of a future that will never emerge.

Recovery is not an option. No recovery; just setting.

“Just like you can’t recover from losing a limb, you can’t ‘recover’ from this any more. You slowly learn to live with this loss. I don’t use the word heal when I work with people. I say that as we move forward in life, we learn to carry pain with us,” says Kremer. “It’s like a giant hole in your life, in your existence. But slowly, other things grow around that hole. If there are many good things in your life, emptiness is actually hidden. But the hole itself doesn’t get any smaller. “It’s still always there, and you never know when you’re going to step into that hole again.”

Now is not the time for advice. It’s natural to want to jump into solutions; that’s how our society works. Discomfort is harder to accept and even welcome, but it is necessary.

“Don’t try to fix the person. This cannot be fixed. That’s the natural tendency: ‘You should try this; You should do this.’ Just be there for that person,” says Kremer. “I wanted people to call us, talk to us, embrace us literally and figuratively. Just listen.”

Find a close insider and get tips from them. If you’re wondering how you can support someone who’s lost a child but aren’t sure what to do and don’t want to be a burden on the family, instead reach out to someone nearby and ask what’s needed.

“Try to find out who is closest to them; Whether it’s a sister, a neighbor, or a best friend, then they can give you some advice. They might say, ‘Honestly, they’re buried in food,’ and give you clues as to what this person is like,” says Kremer.

Don’t make a thoughtful exclusion. Instead of assuming that a grieving friend doesn’t want to attend a wedding or have Thanksgiving dinner, offer an open invitation.

“Say: ‘I totally understand if you’re not ready to participate. I’m not sure I could participate if I were you. “But we just want you to know how important you are to us, and whatever you decide, we completely understand you,” he says.

Don’t stop checking in. There’s usually an initial wave of sympathy: food, texts, carpool offers. Maybe crisis-level assistance will be cut, but “thinking of you” messages or check-ins are important for months, or even years, afterwards.

“People think the pain will last maybe four or five months, but after that we get back to normal and should be able to get back to our lives. It takes years. Kremer says that in the world where child loss occurs, the first five years are considered a new pain. (If you want to learn more about the grieving process in a society that likes to move on, she recommends Megan Devine’s book “It’s OK That You’re Not OK.”)

Never say these words. Kremer’s group keeps a running list of unintentionally hurtful statements. I will share them here: “I know how you feel.” (You don’t.) “He’s in a better place.” (Better than being here on this planet? Going to prom? Graduating from high school? No.) “Time heals all wounds.” (It doesn’t work.) “Let me know if you need anything.” (Do something instead. Anything!) “Everything happens for a reason.” (No reason you can think of.)

And one that surprised me: “Remember the good times.” This seems kind of harmless, right?

“I think with other losses there comes a time when these memories are really useful and we remember them with a smile. It takes a long time to get there with the child. They say eventually you’ll get to the point where thinking about your child will bring more happiness than pain, or make you smile before it makes you cry. This may be true. Nothing like this has happened for me yet, and I’m in my tenth year,” says Kremer.

Say the child’s name. This is a big deal: People may tend to avoid talking about the child, Kremer says, but it’s actually important to keep their parents’ memories alive by asking their parents if they’ve heard their favorite song or seen a movie they liked. Find an old photo on your phone.

“You show them not only that you haven’t forgotten them, but more importantly, that you haven’t forgotten their children either. So please keep checking back. Not for weeks. Not for months. But years,” says Kremer. “Some people are hesitant to call or say anything because they don’t want to remind us. Trust me: We haven’t forgotten.”

Kara Baskin can be reached at [email protected]. follow him @kcbaskin.