Lessons in showing up, a truly useful photo printer, and the comfort of cheese & crackers
Plus, on what to do when you don’t know what to do
Tim and I are on the road; the asphalt spooling ahead and behind us as a patchwork of pine trees undulates beneath the August blue sky. We just passed a sign for Montreal; we’re northward-bound to celebrate a friend’s milestone birthday. We’re out of the rolling hills of New England and into the Adirondacks. Up here, Interstate 87 gives a bird’s-eye view, with cascades of clouds as far as you can see. The world both opens and feels very far away.
Grief found us this week; a friend died unexpectedly. We had seen her and her family a few days prior. The horror and senselessness of her death has washed over us in waves that leave us shattered. What no one tells you about grief is that it accumulates and reverberates. This friend’s death is a unique sadness, but it draws on a well of older, deeper sadness from other losses.
On what to do when you don’t know what to do
Even as I make the calls and texts to let friends know the news, even as I write condolence cards about her relentless curiosity and generosity, even when those words don’t do her justice, I have been overwhelmed by not knowing how to support her husband and children.
When I was younger and less experienced, I defaulted to giving space to the grieving, and sometimes, that’s still the right choice. But more often, I’ve learned the importance of just showing up, of being there, of helping, however imperfectly, to bear witness.
For me, sometimes showing up means arriving with bagels (which can be eaten for any meal, sliced and frozen, or even run under water when stale and microwaved!) and cash, and other times it’s just texting a DoorDash gift card. Sometimes it’s a bag of groceries – a loaf of bread, good butter, sliced turkey, some cookies, a bouquet left on a porch or with a doorman. Sometimes, showing up means doing the dishes in the sink or emptying the fridge of all that well-meaning donated food. Other times, it’s showing up to take someone’s kids out for lunch and a movie. Sometimes it’s just a text, “No need to text me back, but know I’m thinking of you.”
It never feels like enough; there is always more to learn about how to take care of each other. I’d love to hear all the ways you have shown up for each other and, in turn, been taken care of, too. Maybe we can be a resource for each other, as every experience with loss has helped me be a better friend and to take better care of my people for the inevitable next time.
Tim shared a text from a friend with me when we stopped for gas just now. In part, they wrote, “I was reminded today how important it is to feel as deeply the joy and lightness of this life as we do the grief and the pain. Today, feel it all but know that there is a tomorrow when you’ll notice the ordinary beauty of the day.”
We just passed Custard’s Last Stand in Long Lake, NY, with hordes of happy-looking people queued up for soft serve—an ordinary beauty, for sure.
One of my strengths is my practicality; my feet are (usually) solidly on the ground, and I tend to default to what I can do with what I have, wherever I am. In that spirit, I wanted to share a few practical things I’ve done in the past when faced with the loss of a friend or family member. Of course, loss is never one size fits all, and not all of these will be of use to every situation.
Talking to my 5-year-old about the death of a grandparent
When my husband’s father died in August of 2023, I was home with my youngest, who was five at the time.
These three books, which I downloaded onto our iPad and read with Ben, really helped me talk to him about death and grief.
What Happens When A Loved One Dies?
I already had this HP Sprocket Studio Photo Printer on hand - and after we talked about Dan’s death, Ben and I looked through an online photo album I’d made of all our photos of Dan. We printed out eight or nine of the images and put them in these frames, which we kept on our kitchen table for months afterward.
This printer has come in handy for all kinds of occasions - art projects, science fair posters, and last-minute birthday and hostess gifts. One of my favorite gifts to give friends is an excellent photo of them with their kids. I take photos with them throughout the year, then print out the best ones and give them with one of these frames. All to say - highly recommend this printer!
“You Can Get Through A Lot With Cheese & Crackers”
After my first child was born, a friend with older children came by with a bag of goodies, which included Cabot precuts (presliced cheese! genius!) and a box of Triscuits, and said to me - knowingly - “You can get through a lot with cheese and crackers.” And, boy, isn’t that the truth. Sometimes, when a friend is going through something, I’ll drop off a bottle of wine with Cabot precuts and Triscuits. Sometimes a bottle of wine and a bag of Doritos. More recently, I’ve found bliss in Saint Angel cheese and cornbread crackers. All to say, when showing up for people, the gesture doesn’t have to be huge. The most important thing, however, is to signal, in whatever way we can, that we’re here and we care.
A note: You won't find any affiliate links in this post. My friend deeply supported the arts, which bring so much beauty and light into the world. If you feel so moved, consider a donation to your local arts organizations. Because her life was ended by an act of gun violence, you could also consider a donation to a non-profit dedicated to its elimination. An evergreen reminder that it doesn’t have to be like this.
Things I've found helpful in my own grief times:
-People who did NOT show up unannounced. (This probably depends on your griever. I am a pretty private person about my grief, so the person who organized a suprise potluck with half a dozen other people AT MY HOUSE without filling me in until they were all standing in my dining room is kind of permanently on my shit list, but it might make some other person feel loved and supported.)
-People who were there but did NOT expect me to comfort/entertain THEM about my tragedy.
-Someone brought us toilet paper and assorted disposable paper goods--unglamorous but incredibly helpful. Like, seriously. The toilet paper was much needed and appreciated. Paper plates & napkins are something I do not keep around normallt and lifted a significant mental load.
-Quiet activity kits/books for the kids. New toys don't solve anything, but distracting activities for them were super helpful.
-Acknoledge personal celebrations that also fall in the grief time. My birthday was less than a month after our tragedy, and it was rough. I could not have handled an actual party, but my sister-in-law organized a quiet send-Christina-birthday-cards campaign with friends and family that helped me not feel so lost/forgotten.
I am so, so sorry about your friend Abby. I don't really have anything useful to contribute, except to say that when I was a kid my friend's dad died suddenly. And she said that one of the hardest things was that most people - kids and adults - avoided talking about her dad afterwards when she really wanted to still talk about him. I've tried to keep this in mind with other grieving friends ever since and to look for ways to talk about the person they've lost if that's what they want. Also, a friend who recently lost someone said to me that all the kindness came at the start when she wasn't really in a place to be able to take it in (lovely messages, cards, flowers etc) - and that now, three months in, she could really do with some of that kindness. Which I guess is similar to what you've said here too...keep reaching out. Sending love to you, and to everyone who loved your friend.