11
" I’ve learned there are no stages to grief. The famous stages of dying (denial, anger, bargaining, acceptance, etc.) apply to people who are dying, not grieving people. Grieving people don’t deny for more than a moment that their loved one has died. They don’t bargain with the universe; it’s too late for bargaining. And anger, acceptance, all the other so-called stages don’t come to a griever in stages. They wash over a griever, as though they were items of clothing in a washing machine, each rubbing and passing over the griever in turn, simultaneously, repeatedly. Anyone saying you are in a certain ‘stage’ of grieving, or, worse, that you are ‘supposed to be’ in a certain stage needs to be taken out and sh—well, needs to be nodded at and forgiven, I suppose. "
― Jim Beaver , Life's That Way
17
" On the other hand, comfort of a sort is providable. It consists in large part of copping to the inability to be comforting. As contradictory as this seems, I (and, I’m told, many other people) have found it immeasurably more helpful for someone to say, ‘I have no idea how you must feel,’ or ‘I can’t imagine your pain.’ Just saying this and making clear that you hear and acknowledge the pain, though you have no answers, goes light-years beyond any attempt to repair a griever’s spirits. The knowledge of a loving soul’s presence and willingness to be present and to hear and absorb one’s grief is a powerful resource for the griever. I’ve had more comfort from people saying, ‘I don’t know what to say,’ than from a hundred people telling me good reasons I shouldn’t feel as bad as I do. I know that whatever is said to a griever by concerned friends, whether ultimately helpful or distressing, comes from the very best of intentions. But if you happen on a broken heart, stand nearby, whisper, ‘I’m here,’ and never, ever, tell it you know how it feels. "
― Jim Beaver , Life's That Way
