Empathy's Gift

Cracked Grace

Holding the Hand of Those Who Mourn

The Gift of Empathy
Empathy Is When Hearts Touch

My friend’s son died two years ago today. I could say, “I know how she feels,” but I don’t know how she feels. However, I get it. I get child death, having lived through (and sort of past) the gut-searing grief she and her husband now experience. Her son came into the world in 1986, only a few months before my child left it.

But I didn’t lose her child—her son—so, no, I don’t presume to know how she feels. All I know is that she is grieving. And I know my heart aches for her because I’m aware of how that hole in the heart feels—that hole that can never be filled, two years later, five years later, twenty-seven years later.

I want to tell her that in spite of the hole that can never be filled, the time will come that the gut-searing ache she feels from this loss won’t hurt so bad. I want to tell her that the moments in which you feel you cannot breathe become fewer. I want to tell her that the moments when you want to run with no destination, only to run, from this reality, this loss, become fewer.

I want to reassure her that love doesn’t change; love remains. The loss also doesn’t change, but peace and comfort come more often as if on wings of white doves.

I pray those doves bless her with their presence today and every day.

How to Hold the Hand of Those Who Mourn: It’s often difficult to know what to say to someone who is grieving. Saying nothing creates a void that crushes. Saying the wrong thing creates more brokenness in a heart that already is beyond hurt. Don't say: "I know how you feel." You don't. Instead, say: “I love you.” “How can I help?” Acknowledge the hurt, the pain, and through examples of love, compassion, and empathy reassure those who are experiencing loss that they are loved and they are not alone.