The One Thing Grievers Need, But Won’t Ask For
Early grief can’t manage your kindness. It can only receive it.
The worst question I got after my wife died was, “What can I do to help?” In early grief, it felt like another job I had to do.
I turned the burner on. Oil hissed in the pan.
The sink was filled with an avalanche of plates. I let the faucet run over the pile and started rinsing. Halfway through, the pan began to crackle, followed by another, steadier sound.
“Shit!”
I had left the laundry sink running.
Water spilled over the lip, soaked the cabinets, pushed through the floor into the basement.
I killed the stove.
Threw towels on the floor.
I ran downstairs. Then upstairs. Then back down.
Hours later, I collapsed on my bedroom floor. Dinner was uncooked. The house was damp.
I stared at the ceiling and wondered how I’d do it all again tomorrow.
That’s what “normal” looks like in early grief. No spare brainpower. Only survival.
You survive.
You Are In Survival
Early grief is survival.
Your brain has changed. It doesn’t work like it used to.
Your body is on high alert. Exhausted with no energy to spare.
A grocery run feels like a cross-country trip.
The only goal is to make it back to bed.
That’s it. It is all you are capable of.
Answering “How can I help?” feels like sympathy, not empathy.
One shouts down the well. The other lowers a ladder.
Don’t Ask. Do.
If you truly want to help someone, and the offer isn’t posturing–then just do.
Pick something. Show up. Do it.
They won’t tell you what they need because others have failed them before, so trust is low.
Earn their trust.
Don’t ask. Do.
What Can I Do?
Remember, their world was shattered. They are frantically feeling around in the dark for the right pieces to pick back up.
So, the small things land big.
Here are a few examples:
Have their kids over for dinner.
Leave groceries at their front door.
Clean their house, or hire someone to clean.
When you send a text, checking in, include the phrase, “No need to reply.”
Drive their kids to appointments, or friends’ houses.
Go watch a movie with them. Silence is fine.
Listen to their pain. Don’t judge or try to “solve” it.
Don’t stop asking them to hang out. Eventually that “no” will be a “yes.”
Take the thinking off their plate.
Tell them when, where, and how you will show up for them.
You can do it without intruding.
Some people will want you to literally show up and others might need a heads up.
Honor their rhythms and boundaries.
How Do I Know They Want It?
Here’s the truth: you won’t really know if they want your help.
But it’s easier to say, “no,” than it is for them to think of something they need.
Show up in their life. Don’t require them to show up for you.
Be helpful without expecting reciprocation.
Listen and don’t speak.
Don’t ask. Do.
Small things save heavy days.
- CJ
P.S. If you are watching a friend or loved one struggle in their grief, I wrote Torn Pages From A Broken Heart which shows the reality of what it is living with acute grief. It will help give understanding what they are going through.
What ways have you helped others?
If you enjoyed this read, the best compliment I could receive would be if you shared it with one person or restacked it.



I feel your pain—my heartfelt condolences for your loss.
I recognise these feelings as a caregiver and after Dad passed
I remember times when people visited and wanted to be told what to do to help, too and expecting claps...a kind of performative help!?!? It's exhausting.
Weird things still lead to eruptions of grief feelings for a whole host of reasons. They're less vicious these days.