The language of grief – what to say when someone dies

Words can seem inadequate when someone dies. It’s a delicate time, when expressions of love or compassion push forward to be uttered, but can sound worn or clumsy. They may be incapable of describing the enormity of loss, the sudden shocking change. Receiving them, the bereaved person may be struggling to come to terms with a new relationship with the world and themselves, without the person they loved, and who loved them. 

Our words might not find them, in this state. The balance has tilted and shifted. It’s not something we have much practice with either, I suspect. For most of us, it’s not like we have many opportunities to extend our sympathies, or that we practice expressing condolence that often. We’re full of life, for the most part. That’s where the focus is. Death seems to move unseen, in the opposite direction. 

Perhaps we too have lost people. Maybe a handful of precious folk, and then only later in life, when the prospect of our own mortality starts coming into focus. Or we are well acquainted with grief, from our early days already. Alternatively, death may have had very little to do with us, and some future grief waits like an unwelcome visitor, of indeterminate shape, at a faraway gate. This grief has a name. It’s called anticipatory grief. 

So, what do you say to someone experiencing loss, someone who can hardly hear you due to the all-encompassing numbness they might feel? Grief affects people physiologically, emotionally, behaviourally, cognitively and spiritually – it is that all-encompassing. A dry mouth, loss of appetite, emotional numbness, indecision, mood swings, a preoccupation with the deceased, a loss of faith or its opposite – these are all possible symptoms of grief, among others. And as I’ve long believed, you can’t tell people things in this life, because they hear what they want to anyway. People in their grief seem even more preoccupied, more distant.   

So I did a little survey recently after a friend shared the sad news of a family member’s death on social media. I pored over the comments, about 400 of them. Yes, she’s popular, and yes, it’s okay to share news of death this way too. About a quarter of the comments mentioned the word “sorry” – by far the most common word used. As in, “sorry for your loss”, or simply “so sorry”. Only two used the word “condolence” while a pile mentioned that they were “sending” something – most of it love, some of it strength. A fraction said that they were “holding you in our thoughts”. Or hearts. 

My little experiment confirmed that in my circle at least, “sorry” is the go-to expression these days. Sorry for your loss. Effective and to the point. Need anything more be said? Saying sorry in this way is almost just a note, an acknowledgement that there is a void, and that trying to fill it with meaningful eulogising is a spurious undertaking. It’s pithy and direct and implies an understanding, and, importantly, gives space to the grieving recipient. “Sorry” doesn’t crowd in upon them. “Sorry” claims no spiritual high ground. There’s nothing objectionable about it. It’s perfectly appropriate, but improved by any free-to-use adjective, such as very, immensely, massively, etc.  

The person who has died becomes a silent absence, even if their outline in our lives remains. They are both gone and not gone, having left ample traces in the world, and in other people.