08/12/2023
Grief Groceries!
I saw this letter today- as a funeral directors son, I have been around this for years. This is some of the best advice I have ever seen.
âHey there, Thanks for writing. Iâm really glad your friend has you in her life.
I get it. Grief is a funny thing. Itâs the time in our life when we most need help, and also the time when asking for help is so hard. Not because we are ashamed to ask for help, although that happens sometimes too. But mostly because our brain just sort of shuts down.
When my Dad died, I looked functional. But I wasnât OK. Not at all. And when the news got out, the ton of people flooding me with calls, texts, and DMâs was overwhelming. I really couldnât function. I sat on the swing in our yard and just stared into space. People called and asked what they could do to help. I had no idea.
âWell, anything you need at all, let me know, OK?â
âOKâ.
They hung up. I stared into space some more.
I had no idea what to do. What I needed. I didnât even know what to ask for.
Then a friend sent a text. This friend had met Dad once but didnât really know him. But still, she knew I was hurting. I saw who it was and almost put the phone down without reading the text, but I saw the message and it stopped me:
Will you be home at 8:30 tonight?
Whatâs weird is this friend lives 12 hours away from me.
Yes, I replied.
âK.â
10 minutes later, she said, âInstacart will be there at 8:30. Open the door for them.â
âWhat?â
âGrief Groceries.!!â
When Instacart showed up, they put two large bags of groceries on my porch. Frozen pizzas. Ice cream. Oreo cookies. Tinned soup. Stoufferâs lasagna. A gallon of milk. Like that. Things I could heat up if I needed a meal, or pig out on if I needed fat and sugar. Sometimes, you just need to eat half a box of Oreos.
Notice she didnât ask if I needed any food. I would have said no. She just asked if I would be home.
Grief groceries.
Another friend, who lives out of town, asked Renee to name a restaurant near our house where we like to eat. There is a local chain near our house that is sort of a deli. When we eat supper there, we spend about $25. Renee told her the name of the place.
An hour later, there was a gift card in my inbox for $250. Yes, that is a lot of money, and I understand not everyone can do that. But the wonderful thing was that because it was enough for multiple meals, we didnât try to save it for âthe right timeâ. We ate there that night, and take out from there several times a week for the next month on nights when I just didnât have the spoons to cook.
Both of those gift-givers knew something I didnât know â that when you are grieving, you donât want to make decisions. No, thatâs not quite it: You canât make decisions. You hit decision fatigue really fast.
So, I guess what Iâm saying is, donât ask grieving people to make big choices or decisions. âHow can I helpâ is a big choice. But âCan I take the kids this afternoon so you can have some time to yourselfâ is a much smaller one. âWill you be home tonight?â is a small choice. âWhat restaurant do you likeâ is a small decision. Just showing up to cut their grass because you noticed it needed cutting is loads better than asking, âDo you want me to cut the grass?â Or, âIâm going to Target. What can I get you while Iâm there?â is better than âCan I run any errands for you?â
It wonât always be like this. If you stick around, eventually they will surface and ways to be helpful will make themselves known. But in the first few days, especially, it helps to remove as many decisions from their plate as you can!â
Original Words from: Hugh Hollowell Jr.
