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When my father passed away, the world blurred.
Grief arrived not just as eroding sadness, but as an ominous dark cloud hovering over my head. The kind that fogs your thinking, clogs your throat, and makes it hard to distinguish between night and day.
August is my dad’s birthday month. This is our second year of losing him and the third birthday when we don’t get to cut a cake with him. He loved celebrating his birthday in New York City with my husband and cousins. Dad was the type of person who embodied gratitude and joy.
It’s this month I am transported to May 2023 when we unexpectedly lost Dad. My tickets to India were booked for August 2023—so I could be with him for his birthday. But three months prior, Dad crossed over to the other realm.
My body still cringes when I remember people saying, “At least he’s no longer suffering” or “Everything happens for a reason,” or “The heavens needed another angel.” I can’t even explain the wave of isolation or frustration these platitudes caused. They might have been trying to offer another perspective. But I felt pressured to move on and find higher meaning in my loss. Modern civilization is so uncomfortable with the idea of grief. We want to tidy it, tuck it away, and get back to “normal.”
There is no reason why Dad passed away. Period. My brother and I lost our mom early in life. Dad was supposed to be around. I had seen him a month prior to his death. He was the foundation and cornerstone of our family. The man my nieces adored and wrote about in their college application essays. The person my friends and cousins revered.
So, when someone tries to justify that there must be a reason behind me losing my anchor and safe space in the world…I can’t even describe how alienating it felt—as if my grief was being minimized and I was being asked to hurry up.
The Hidden Harm of Platitudes
As both a daughter navigating immense loss and a grief coach, who walks beside others in mourning, I’ve learned this: most people are not taught how to hold pain or sit in the discomfort of grief. So, they reach for platitudes to avoid the uneasiness. But in doing so, they often silence the griever.
A large majority of people assume what a griever needs instead of asking them. These cliched and cold phrases might soothe the speaker, but it hurts the griever. I get it; when someone we love or care about is grieving, we often feel helpless. So, we reach for words we’ve heard before—phrases like “They’re in a better place,” or “Stay strong.” These words, though well-intentioned, can unintentionally silence pain and deepen loneliness. It makes the griever feel pressured to wrap it up soon.
What Grievers Truly Need
Drawing from personal experience and my work as a grief coach, I share what grievers truly need: presence, validation, and space to feel without being “fixed.”
1. Presence over platitudes
I remember one friend who messaged me regularly after my father died. She didn’t say much. She simply stayed. She often asked, “What do you need? I don’t even know what to say. Or offer.” She let my silence fill the space. Those messages taught me more about support than a hundred condolence cards.
2. Validation over solutions
Grief often comes with guilt, confusion, even rage. A grieving person might say something contradictory or irrational. “I wish my last conversation with my mom wasn’t so harsh.” “I wish I had answered the phone when they last called.” “I feel like I failed them.” The best response isn’t correction. It’s empathy. “That makes sense.” “I hear you.” “It’s okay to feel that way.” Don’t say, “But you weren’t so close to your aunt. Why is it bothering you now?”
3. Permission to feel devastated
Grief is nuanced and rarely about a singular loss. I am still grappling with my identity after losing Dad. I am wondering about my connection with India—the land of my ancestors. I feel sad that most people in the extended family have moved on with their lives because it’s been two years since we lost Dad. Like me, other grievers would appreciate being able to grieve without the timeline pressure. Because grief shows up when you are least expecting it, and no griever should feel the pressure for it to be polished and explained away.
4. Space over stories
I am conscious of not becoming that person who personalizes every loss and makes every grief about who or what they have lost. When someone is grieving, it’s tempting to say, “When my father died, I felt the same way.” But that quickly shifts the focus. Grievers don’t need to hear your story unless they ask. They need space for their story to breathe. They might need to say it repeatedly. Hold space, be compassionate.
5. Practical support rather than spiritual explanations
While faith and spirituality can be profound sources of comfort, they often land better later—when the griever is ready to seek meaning, not just survive. When one of my childhood friends lost her teenage son to a road accident, her world shattered. But the number of people who tried to justify this young boy’s untimely end under the guise of spirituality mumbo jumbo or offer a philosophical reflection on the afterlife…it was just cruelly nonsensical. I mean, her nervous system was dysregulated, sleep was completely disrupted, and even simple tasks like eating felt overwhelming…and there were people telling her there was a spiritual reason behind her loss?
Grief Isn’t a Problem to Fix
“This must be such a deep loss. I’m holding you in my heart.” A friend of mine said to me after I lost Dad. Those two lines made me feel visible and cared for in a world where my new identity was “adult orphan.”
Grief isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a measure of love.
For the most part, even a griever might not always know what they need because grief is just that temperamental.
The greatest gift we can offer someone in grief isn’t advice or answers. It’s presence. It’s permission to feel without judgment. It’s the courage to sit in the fire of loss without trying to extinguish it.
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