Don't know what to say to a grieving co-worker? You're not alone

by David Swick

The news moves through the office in a whisper. A co-worker won't be in this week; there has been a death in the family. Everyone agrees this is sad, but no one is quite sure how to proceed. Do you send flowers? A note? Food? Even more troubling is the thought of when you are next face-to-face with your co-worker. What do you say to someone who is grieving?

John Doyle says it's OK that you feel awkward and don't know what to do or say. Don't worry about this. It's normal. And don't expect to find the perfect words, because there are none.

Doyle has been working as a funeral director for 45 years and is vice-president and managing director of Brenan's Select Funeral Home in Saint John, N.B. He knows how people react to co-workers grieving a death because he has seen thousands in this position. His suggestion: pull up your courage, look your co-worker in the eye, and say something. Anything. The worst thing you can do is nothing at all; doing nothing might be understood as meaning that you don't care. "It's not what you say or do," he says. "It's how you make people feel."

My father died this past Labour Day (poetic timing for a man who loved to work). Most of September and much of the fall for me is now a blur; grief has a way of making the world wobbly. One thing I noticed acutely at the time, though, was the uncomfortable silence of some friends and co-workers. They did not know what to say. And so there was some avoidance in the hallway, some acting like everything was normal, some pretending it didn't happen.

They did not know what to say, just as following deaths in other families I have not known what to say. Doyle offers this advice: resolve to approach your co-worker the next time you see him or her. Say you feel badly that this is such a hard time. If you feel comfortable doing so, offer a hug.

Immediately on hearing of the death, send a card or flowers. At a time when the world feels blown apart, says Doyle, small attentions from caring co-workers help. "Every card and flower means someone cares."

If there is a funeral or memorial service, go. Think that funerals are the place only for lifelong friends and not for you, a mere co-worker? Rather than think of the funeral as a dismal time, consider what Doyle offers from his experience: the memorial service is when healing can start. Having a good number of people there can create some new positive energy.

Joan Didion, in her wonderful 2006 exploration of grief, The Year of Magical Thinking, wrote that she perused bookshelves full of contemporary advice books and found most of them to be both poorly written and trite. For smart advice on how to treat the grieving, Didion wound up rediscovering 1920s etiquette queen Emily Post. One of Post's tips was based in the fact that grieving people often don't have the emotional energy to cook. So a caring co-worker might cook something for them.

Doyle suggests this, too: just because someone has returned to work doesn't mean that they are not in shock and pain. Mourning doesn't follow a schedule. It can wreak havoc-making someone feel sad, ill, and ungrounded-for weeks or months or longer. So extra care is called for. "Nothing is more comfortable than hugs and food," he says. "You might bring them some baked cookies to take home; baked cookies are homey."

Another good tip: make a casserole, put it in the office fridge, and hand it to your co-worker when he or she is leaving for the day. If you don't like to cook, hand over a food basket you have bought. Or-a new one on Emily Post-hand your co-worker a gift certificate to Swiss Chalet or another restaurant, so the grieving family can go out by themselves. A gift certificate is good not only because it provides sustenance, says Doyle, but also because "it gets them out of the house. People need people."

Our culture is in deep denial about death; no wonder it takes us all by surprise. When death comes to the office, though, is a time to get real. It's a time for co-workers to express their sense of community.
Sometimes chocolate-chip cookies speak louder than words.

David Swick teaches journalism ethics at the University of King's College in Halifax. He can be reached at swick@eastlink.ca.