Parents Who Lost A Child Share The Most Helpful Things People Did For Them

Parents who’ve lost a child will tell you there are no words to adequately capture the pain and horror of this type of death and grief process.

Although well-meaning people may try to support bereaved parents in a variety of ways, their efforts can sometimes be misguided. That doesn’t mean there’s nothing you can do to help in this situation, however.

HuffPost spoke to bereaved parents about the aftermath of their losses and asked them to share the actually helpful things others did for them. Of course, no two losses or grieving individuals are the same, but these approaches might help make a difference for someone in your life.

“In the year since my daughter died, friends have shared with me pictures or videos that they have of her,” said Jessica Fein, whose daughter, Dalia, died of a rare mitochondrial disease in 2022. “There is no greater gift I could receive. I will never get to take any more pictures or videos, so getting a new one almost feels like making a new memory of her.”

One of the simplest but most powerful ways to support grieving parents is to watch old videos or look through photos of their child with them. Ask them to share their memories, and tell your own stories about their child as well.

“It was very helpful to receive cards from people that contained stories about Randy, maybe something he had done or little memories,” said Karen Wallace Bartelt, who lost her son to a drug overdose in 2018. “I just loved hearing stories about him and was so grateful for every card, email or text. There were lots of things I didn’t know ― probably because he didn’t want me to at the time, lots of hilarious and fun stories. I got probably 200 cards, and I still reread them. And that’s not counting the emails and in-person stories too.”

Don’t be afraid to talk to a grieving parent about their child and mention them by name. This offers the validation that their child actually lived and has not been forgotten. If you didn’t know their child personally, ask questions about them.

“Our kids are frozen in time and so we can’t share what they’re up to lately,” said Erica Landis, whose toddler son, Noah, died in a pool accident in 2010. “But we can talk about memories or simply say their name. And while it’s so sad and difficult, it means a lot.”

“On a practical level, I found that during the first few months, offers of help with cooking, shopping, paying bills, dealing with paperwork, phone calls, and so on, were extraordinarily helpful,” said Katja Faber, whose son Alex was killed in 2014.

If you want to support a grieving parent, remember there are no magic words you can say, but there are everyday logistics you can assist with. Try to jump in with offers and specifics rather than asking the broad question “What can I do to help?”

“Come over and help with housekeeping,” suggested Joanne Cacciatore, whose daughter Cheyenne died as an infant in 1994. “Help with child care if the parents have other children so that they can go to the cemetery to visit their child who died without having to tend to the other children.”

Offer to bring over meals. Make sure you know everyone’s dietary restrictions so that you cook or order food they can actually eat.

“Remember that we don’t want to turn the grieving family into caregivers and hosts,” Cacciatore emphasized. “People bring meals and knock on the door and expect to be invited in to spend time with them. But they may not want company at the moment. When you bring a meal, text them to let you know that you’re on the way and offer to leave it at the door. Then, unless they’ve asked you to come in, just send a text once you’ve left to let them know the delivery is there. That way they don’t feel like they need to entertain you.”

“I had a couple of good friends who just allowed me to cry with them, let me break down and just cry,” Lehman Riley said of the period after his daughter Lizzy died in 2020.

As a man who grew up in the 1970s, he felt pressure to keep his emotions inside. But the judgment-free zone his friends fostered after the death of his daughter provided the support and comfort he needed to express his grief.

“I can’t thank them enough,” Riley said. “They didn’t say anything but just let me pour it out. They let me release the pain I had and supported me. I was feeling guilty or that I should back off because I didn’t want them thinking, ‘Oh here comes Lehman, he’s gonna cry.’ But they never made me feel like I wasn’t free to do that. They never told me what I should be doing or feeling.”

Not everyone is able to take in the horror of parental grief and suffering, but try to offer bereaved parents the space to fully experience their pain.

“I understand that it’s hard to watch someone in so much pain that as a friend you feel utterly helpless,” Faber said. “But try not try to fix them, or give advice unless you yourself have walked in their shoes. Some things in life cannot be made better, some events cannot be undone. It may seem counterintuitive, but trying to minimize the level of suffering of a grieving parent by attempting to cheer them up is often experienced as hurtful. Avoid toxic positivity and instead, try to hold a grieving parent’s heart with compassion even if it means you sit quietly with them as they cry.”

“One friend, a few weeks after Noah died, told me something when I feeling pressure to go to a social event,” Landis recalled. “She said, ‘You get a pass for the rest of your life. That’s how hard this must be. And for anyone that doesn’t understand, too bad.’ Her giving me that dispensation is something that I draw on when I still feel pressure to attend someone else’s life event or milestone that triggers me.”

She and her husband are grateful for the gift of this “permission” and its inherent validation of how difficult it is to survive the unnatural horror of losing a child.

“People have the best intentions of wanting you to be the way you were before your child died,” Landis said. “They don’t want you to miss out on things. But your own mental health is so important.”

“After Randy died, my sister came over after the funeral every single day for a month, and she sat in my living room and crocheted or read,” Bartelt said. “She didn’t put pressure on me to find something for her to do. All she did was come over and sit in the house. It was a comfort because I knew if I needed something, she was going to be right there ― somebody to talk to or run to the store or help with something. She was just there without any expectations.”

Sometimes just being there and not saying anything at all is all the grieving person needs from you. For Cacciatore, her dogs and her surviving children offered that silent support.

“My dogs never tried to change how I felt,” she recalled. “They never tried to cheer me up. They never told me to stop crying. They just showed up and sat with me. My surviving children were like that too ― they had a very gentle way of just sitting with me or simply saying things like ‘I’m sorry Mommy. I’m sorry sissy died.’ They were very young at the time but were more emotionally intelligent than most of the adults around me.”

After Jacqueline Dooley lost her teenage daughter Ana to cancer in 2017, her friends offered to take walks with her whenever and wherever she wanted.

“Just having someone walking beside me as I wept, looked at birds, and searched for feathers was hugely helpful,” she said. “My mother listened to me and didn’t try to make my loss about her, even though she was clearly grieving too. It’s the people who made space for my grief in their lives that made all the difference. Quite honestly, these are still the people I turn to when I’m struggling.”

“It was those who stayed the course ― checked in weeks and months later, answered late-night phone calls, listened to me when I needed to talk ― who touched me deeply,” said Casey Mulligan Walsh, whose son Eric died in a car crash in 1999.

She’ll never forget when she received flowers on the six-month anniversary of the accident.

“All these years later, I can still feel the wave of gratitude, of knowing I hadn’t been forgotten, that Eric hadn’t been forgotten, that overcame me when the florist handed that bouquet through the front door,” Walsh said. “I have one friend who never forgets Eric’s birthday or the anniversary of his death. Even when decades have passed ― maybe more importantly then ― remembering the life of the child I carried and raised is the most loving thing anyone can do.”

Although bereaved parents can learn to live with the pain of child loss, this type of grief never ends. Even as the months turn into years, continue to check in on those who are living without their children.

“The people who showed up day after day, month after month, year after year with unconditional love and support saved my life,” said Angela Miller, whose toddler son Noah died 15 years ago. “The ones who still say his name, fifteen years later. The ones who still remember my son’s birthday every single year. The ones who still send me a Mother’s Day card and remember to write his name. These are my people, my tribe, my lifeline.”

“None of my friends had lost children, so I felt very isolated in my loss,” said Kimberly Schlau, whose daughters Kelli and Jessica died in 2007. “I remember when a woman, Candy Priano, called me and told me her story ― her daughter was killed during a police pursuit. I remember saying to her, ‘You are a lifeline! I’ve felt so alone!’ Finally finding someone who not only knew the feeling of losing a child but also in similar circumstances made me feel less alone in my loss.”

Schlau works with Priano through the organization Pursuit Safety and is also a member of the grief support group Angel Moms Over St. Louis and Abroad.

“This organization is amazing,” she said. “We have a Facebook page where moms can post and receive advice, support, and most importantly, acceptance and understanding. I feel it has helped me as well as the other members.”

Landis similarly recalled the power of connecting with others who have experienced child loss.

“The best advice I got from another grieving parent very soon after was ‘You will feel like you’re going crazy but you’re not. Your mind will come back,’” she said. Reading the words of fellow grieving parents through books that were gifted to her has also offered comfort and support to those going through the unimaginable.

“I read and reread two books of poetry by Alexis Rhone Fancher about the death of her son, Josh,” Bartelt said. “Hers are not poems of comfort, they identify the loss of a beloved child in the brutal truth it really is. I’ve given her books ‘State of Grace: The Joshua Elegies’ and ‘The Dead Kid Poems’ to several parents whose children have died, and they completely identified with her work.”

“It’s so simple, but when people gathered and just listened, that really helped us cope,” said Dolores Cruz, whose son Eric died in a car accident in 2017. “People like to tell the griever what their experience was, what they should do, how they can feel better, what they can do, all that. But what felt good for me was just to listen to me talk about my son, to let me tell you how wonderful he was, how much I miss him. Being a listener is a huge skill.”

Refrain from telling a grieving parent to be strong or tell them they’re going to be OK in the future. As much as we wish we could fix or heal their suffering, it’s not possible. For Miller, the most supportive people have never relied on words.

“These kind souls didn’t dare give me trite cliches the rest of the world was giving out in spades: ‘Everything happens for a reason,’ ‘God needed another angel,’ ‘You can have more children,’” she explained.

Instead, meet grieving parents in this moment of their pain and let them express how they are feeling now. Offer a hug and lend them your ear.

“Child loss is a loss like no other. One often misunderstood by many,” Miller said. “My child died. I don’t need advice. All I need is for you to gently close your mouth, open wide your heart, and walk with me until I can see in color again.”