May 20, 2021 5 min read

Q. I used to talk about being a registered nurse during your breaks when you taught at my high school. I didn’t do the nurse thing, I became a social worker, but I did follow my dream of caring for others.

I’m new in this role.

Last week, I had my first experience with death. It was a child’s death. I thought I was ready, but I don’t know if I was. The parents were so devastated. How should I have supported them? As I move forward in my profession, I know I will work with grieving parents. What would I say that’s real? We had classes on this in school, but real life feels so different. If I’m questioning myself, will I be a good social worker? Thank you for listening.

Former student still reaching out

Mary Jo’s Response: I love when dreams become reality. I also love your giving heart. Your quest to provide genuine, caring support will guide you to offer what is needed and real. Like all of us, you will grow in your profession. Seek mentors to help you process your feelings and reactions. Fall back on the wisdom of your professors. They prepared you. Questioning will lead to excellence. You are worthy of this role.

Let’s talk about how we can support grieving parents.

The loss of a child is devastating. Children are supposed to outlive parents. The grief of a parent is often longer and more intense than another loss. It involves the loss of hopes and dreams. It may reframe and threaten the parent’s identity and role.

A grieving parent told me, “I don’t know who I am now. For four years, I’ve been a caregiver, a nurse, a secretary keeping notes between treatments, a cheerleader, a counselor, a nutritionist and a companion. Now what?”

First, remember the key is holding space, or giving the gift of our presence without judgement or advice. When we hold space, we are fully there, listening or sitting in silence, offering caring, emphatic support.

Please know each person deals with grief in their own way. Our pre-conceived ideas of grief mean nothing – the individual’s needs are foremost.

Here are some ways to be there:

1. Listen to hear, not to respond. Keep the conversation’s focus on the person to whom you offer support.

2. Every person’s grief is unique. Some parents may want to talk, others may not. Some will seek physical contact, like a hand to hold, but others need space. Some will weep in front of us, others will hold in their tears until they are alone or with their closest “safe” people. Some may not cry.

3. Words matter. Choose them wisely. We should avoid saying we “understand” – losing a child is intense and no one without this type of grief experience can imagine its force.

4. It’s not about us. I’m often asked in training exercises – should we share a personal experience that is similar? Rarely, and with care. If parents seek connection or kinship, it is OK, in my opinion, to share, but only if the conversation does not switch to us. Bring it back to the parent. We should not be the ones receiving comfort. If someone’s grief triggers our own trauma, I believe we should connect with those who support us.

5. Let grieving parents lead you. Some people appreciate an offer of comfort, of music or privacy, of food or tea/coffee, but do not force, simply have these things available. Be sure to place water within reach so hydration is easy. Ask yourself, am I trying to foist these items on a grieving parent to feel like I’m doing something to make things better? We cannot “fix” grief.

6. Keep promises. If you plan to call to check up on a grieving parent, do so. If the parent does not respond, do not harass, but use another connection. If voicemail fails, you could text, if you’ve established this line of connection. You can always send a card. Just be sure to follow through.

7. My body language and my words express support for any emotion, including anger or tears. I make certain I have tissues within reach, but I do not hand a tissue to a person who is weeping. I fear such a gesture may signal a desire for the parent to stop crying. Acceptance is vital.

8. Please honor neurodiversity. Layers of grief may be difficult to read with a parent on the spectrum. Do not assume a person’s ability or affect mean they are not grieving.

9. Assess for clinical depression. Grief counseling may help, but there is no time frame for a parent to “get over” their grief.

Finally, take care of you.

Compassion fatigue is real. Remember the airplane analogy? Adults are asked to secure their oxygen masks before placing a mask on a child. It may sound cliché, but it is true … we cannot pour from an empty cup.

Have a question? Send it to Dr. Mary Jo Podgurski’s email podmj@healthyteens.com.