Earlier this year, a friend of mine lost a sister in a tragic way; a heartbreaking way because it was connected to an addiction that she just couldn’t shake. And she wasn’t just a sister—she was a sister-in-law, an aunt, a daughter and a mom. I went to the hospital, just to be there with my friends.Their parents were there too, grieving the loss of their daughter. My heart aches for them, for my friends, their family, and for the loss that shouldn’t have happened.

I am grateful for one thing though. I am grateful that I know the lay of the land when it comes to grief, at least in some small measure. My father died when I was 28—he died suddenly and without warning. My mom died when I was 45—she died after a two-and-a-half-year battle with metastatic cancer. I have experienced the sharp pain of sudden loss, and I have shared in the sorrow of watching a loved one die in front of me. Both are terribly hard: both bring their own of a version of sorrow and heartache.

So, you see, I know grief. I know little things (and maybe some big things) about how it works, how it moves, how it lingers and how it can surprise you when you least expect it.

Here are a few things I know:  

• Showing up is important: sitting in the hospital, quietly talking, remembering, and even saying nothing at all. Showing up for your friend in their time of grieving is one of the kindest and most important gestures you can make.
• Getting someone a cup of coffee or bringing them a magazine while they wait can be just what they need. Sometimes it’s the little acts of kindness that can help someone in their process of grieving.
• Some people need to talk about their loved one or their loss—and I can be a good listener. Others need time to process and don’t want to talk at all—and I can just sit. 
• A phone call can mean a lot. This is such an easy way to let that person know that you’re thinking about them. 
• I know that there is nothing really right to say—“I’m sorry” suffices and is enough. But not to say anything at all and pretend it didn’t happen often only causes more sorrow.

I don’t know everything about it, of course. I do know everyone grieves in different ways and the timing of talking and crying and laughing and weeping changes from person to person. But the importance of showing up, being present during their time of grieving, and making a call—that’s pretty much universal with grievers.

I know these things because I’ve lost those I’ve loved and as hard as that was, I am ever so glad to know some of the ins and outs of grief because I’ve experienced my own sorrow in a loss. I know that it's helpful to talk to someone who understands; there is just something about someone who gets it that is comforting. Those who have grieved know that I don’t need to say the right thing, I just need to make a connection.

Psalm 34:18 says “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” I figure that if we aim to be like Jesus, we should be near too.

Being close to the brokenhearted is hard, truly it is. It can be uncomfortable. You may cry when you don’t want to, some of your own sorrow often comes back a little bit but, after living in this place of knowing grief for a while now, I can tell you: it’s worth it. It’s worth it to be one of the ones who understand because when I was grieving, having someone who understands what you’re going through made all the difference. So, I’ll take it. I’ll take being the one who “gets it” a little more than most. And I’ll point those who grieve in the direction of the God who made my own grief bearable. Because He gets it too.

Kathy Smarrella oversees spiritual development, which includes all our classes, groups, retreats and event with the ultimate goal of creating spiritually healthy followers of Jesus here at The Vineyard Church. She also directs our community outreach and missions efforts, helping our church become the hands and feet of Jesus in our community and across the world.

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