What should you say and do when someone dies? Best ways to help the bereaved

In lieu of flowers: When someone dies, the bereaved may appreciate baking more than a bouquet.

Weighted blankets, macaroni cheese and lawn mowing – just some of the practical ways friends and family helped three women deal with the death of a loved one. Why is it always so hard to know what to write in a sympathy card? How useful is a bunch of flowers, really? When someone dies, how can we help those left behind? Kim Knight reports.

Grace Curtis made a list of things to talk to her dad about on Father’s Day. What show was he really enjoying watching? What did he feel like for dinner? Why was the orange light on in her car? The list was hypothetical. Curtis’ father John killed himself almost five years ago.

Diana McKergow and her husband Soren Wislang had the entire summer ahead of them. January is a great time to be teachers with adult children and a holiday house near the beach. Four days into 2022, Wislang died in his sleep. “In lieu of flowers please donate to the Mt Albert Grammar Maths Department,” said his death notice.

Natasha Francois and her partner, artist Peter Roche, had only just moved back into their converted movie theatre home. A major fire, the death of a cat and a cough that just wouldn’t go away – it had not been a great couple of years. Finally, a diagnosis for that cough. In 2019, Roche was told he had stage four cancer and five years to live. Seven months later, Francois asked hospital staff to switch off his life support.

Suicide. Sudden death. Terminal illness. So many routes to the same, inevitable, outcome. We can’t avoid death – but can we get better at supporting those who are left behind?

Three women deeply affected by death have shared their individual stories with the New Zealand Herald in response to a universal question: When someone we know loses someone they love, is there anything we can usefully say and do to help?

Everybody dies. Everybody knows somebody affected by death. This is a story about what to do next.

Grace, 27: “A purchased gift that is really effective and special is a weighted blanket. About 20 of my friends bought me one after Dad passed. It can help with sleep, comfort and stillness – all essential for someone grieving. Like a purchased hug.”

Diana, 55: “I had so many people coming through the house. I asked friends to come around and clean the bathrooms, and vacuum. Someone just turned up and mowed the lawn. I looked out the window, and there was someone mowing the lawn.”

Natasha, 46: “There was a note behind the door: ‘I’ve rolled two joints and I’ve hidden them behind the mirror’. I crept out in my towel and got them and smoked them out the window. Give that person their creature comforts. They can’t eat flowers. Give them cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, whatever. Give it to them. They need it now.”

That’s a selected grab-bag of responses from much longer interviews. What should you write in a condolence card? Should you send flowers or bake a lasagne? When will everything go back to normal? In a series of phone and email interviews, Grace, Diana and Natasha offered insights into what helped, and what didn’t, at the worst moment in their lives.

Rethink the flowers

Grace: “This may be an unpopular opinion, but flowers were a right pain in the ass! While it is a beautiful gesture and they are glorious in the moment, they eventually die and require disposing. Mixed with an awful smell of old flowers, it can be quite depressing.”

Diana: “It was lovely having the flowers, but it just seemed to symbolise the loss that we just suffered. One of the companies Soren worked for many years ago asked me what my favourite flowers were and I immediately thought, ‘oh, the lisianthus I had in my wedding posy’. And then this enormous bunch arrived and I just wept and wept and wept . . . at the end, when Soren left the house, the family just went round and raided all the bouquets. It was spontaneous, I asked everybody to go and choose a flower they wanted to give him. We covered him with flowers, and so that was really beautiful.”

Natasha: “Maybe on the day of the funeral, but in the immediate aftermath . . . I wasn’t here to mind my own behaviour. I had, like, 45 bouquets of flowers and because I live in a theatre, I don’t have a courier address. I had to go all the way around the building, get the flowers back upstairs, and I ran out of vases. My heart sank. I went into a rage. In the end, I just grabbed them and threw them against the wall.”

Sculptor Peter Roche (left) died in 2020. His partner, Natasha Francois, says she experienced "incredible rage" they didn't have longer together.

What to bring to the bereaved (yes, macaroni cheese is okay)

Grace: “The most practical thing you can do is small acts of service, whether you are asked to or not. A person in the immediate stage of grief is less likely to request that you help them with washing, dishes or otherwise – but they will be very appreciative and it goes a really long way to removing the constant reminder of just how tough everything is for them right now!”

Diana: “I think, now, I would probably send somebody a plant. Something that they can care for that lives on. A friend gave me King’s Plant Barn vouchers. I love passionfruit and Soren loved mandarins. So I went and bought both and they’re just blooming in the garden. You can go and visit that tree and talk to it and have a relationship with it.”

Natasha: “My tenant, who I hardly knew, knocked on my door and said, ‘I don’t know what to do. I feel so upset. But I’ve made this beautiful macaroni cheese and it’s sitting outside your door’. I was sitting in bed. I thought, ‘hang on a minute – and this tiny little feeling of hunger started creeping over me’. I tiptoed out, got back into bed, sat there with a fork and just ate the whole thing out of the dish. And I felt much, much better. One of my workmates said ‘what do you need, what do you want?’ And I said ‘f*** this s***, I want two packets of fags and two bottles of wine’ . . . I lit a cigarette immediately, I drank some wine out of the bottle and I sat there and I was actually at peace for about 10 minutes. Food and alcohol. If there’s any time to quit smoking and drinking it ain’t when your partner is dead. I was really grateful to my workmate who didn’t judge me.”

The bereaved are angry and hurt. Try not to take it personally

Grace: “The immediate aftermath is rough, and it’s unlikely a person grieving will be in a position to comprehend what they need. They may be more confrontational, or more carefree than usual; more extroverted or introverted in any given moment. Prioritising their safety is important, but allowing them to express whatever they are feeling, whether or not it’s that person’s usual style, can be helpful too. They’re feeling a lot of feelings they’ve never felt before. If you find yourself on the receiving end of confrontation don’t take it personally.”

Diana: “I probably said things I shouldn’t have said. I was outrageously angry. Being a preschool teacher, I’ve never, ever been angry. But I swore. Every second word was the F-word. I was so angry with everything and everyone . . . I was so angry that he left me at 55. This was not our plan. When Soren left the house in the hearse, I slapped the hearse, and I was just stomping my feet . . . it was like a storm that was just raging. And that night I ended up in hospital. I woke up with terrible chest pain. We went to Ascot and a lovely woman said to me ‘do you know what you’ve got? You’ve got broken heart syndrome and you’re going straight to Auckland City Hospital. I spent four days in there just resting.”

Natasha: “I went through this incredible rage . . . I’m still bitter that I was told five years and got seven months. We didn’t have any holidays, we didn’t have any weekends away or days just mucking around off work. It was constant drama and constant tragedy. The phases don’t go in a logical order. The tremendous guilt I felt for being so angry when people were trying to help me; trying to swallow your rage – but you just need a bloody good cry. I cried for about 60 days . . . I went through a terrible period of anger looking at elderly people on the street and I know it’s not a very PC thing to say, but I was like ‘how on earth are you still alive? Why is my partner dead?’”

The right thing to write (and should you just call?)

Grace: “My advice is that it is okay to say ‘I don’t know what to say’. By admitting that you may not be able to relate, this can invite the person grieving an opportunity to divulge how they are feeling if they choose to. If you can’t relate, that doesn’t mean you can’t help, because helping is much more about listening to them and less about offering solutions . . . texting is great, even a text asking for a call. Sometimes you don’t want to pick up the phone in the moment, so offering a later opportunity is well received. So is ‘I will always be here’ – whether it is months or years down the track. At a time of profound grief, it’s usual to want to isolate. Knowing you’ll be waiting in the wings when they’re ready to return, can remove so much pressure.”

Diana: “Soren was in the Auckland Symphony Orchestra and members would come around with a photo of them playing together or a memory of a concert they did. That was really heartfelt, because they’d taken the time to write down a memory I wasn’t personally involved in, and the little stories of things that happened. I’ve kept all the letters and cards and when I filed them, I read them all again. The day before he died, an adult tūī flew into the house and just glided around – Soren was freaking out because he hated things coming inside. I just held this bird and said ‘you stay outside, you beautiful bird’. And then I had one more day with Soren. The tūī was a real symbol of him. I sent everybody a tūī postcard, I printed 500 of these damn things and that was really therapeutic for me later on. Handwriting on all of them, just acknowledging their friendship and saying that he will always be remembered and we carry him with us wherever we go.”

Natasha: “I do get anxiety about writing in cards. I had to do one recently and I just froze. I stupidly asked ChatGPT what they would say, and that was worse than anything I could come up with! But at the end of the day, the person just wants to hear you say their name. They want you to acknowledge what’s happened, not hide behind cliches and platitudes. Just acknowledge what they’re going through. People often avoid saying their names, like they don’t exist anymore. It’s really, really important. My partner was Peter. I’m not going to let him become forgotten or make people feel comfortable just pretending he never existed. Say their name. Put their name in the card.”

Diana McKergow (left) and Soren Wislang had a shared loved of cycling.

Words matter more (and also less) than you might think

Grace: “The unfortunate truth is that the person intimately impacted by this loss has much bigger fish to fry than a throwaway comment you may perceive as damaging or awkward. There is no wrong thing to say. The situation is heavy and your persistent presence and company is much more important and impactful for that person.”

Diana: “I’ve got a bit of a weird sense of humour and I cracked lots of jokes. That was the way I dealt with the enormity of it, was to make fun of it. And, you know, it helped. Because it was just so surreal. It was funny sometimes – what just happened? I was on holiday, having a wonderful January and then suddenly it flipped. You turn it into a funny sort of sitcom situation. The thing that helped was being surrounded by family and community . . . they just came and basically moved in and looked after me. My daughters, 24 and 25 at the time, turned from being daughters to being mothers. They took over looking after me.”

Natasha: “People don’t know how to respond to grief. It makes people so uncomfortable and awkward. They just want to fix things. There’s a psychotherapist, Megan Devine, and her most famous book is It’s OK That You’re Not OK . . . the whole thing is you have to let people sit in their grief and get through it. You can’t try and talk them out of it, you can’t negotiate with it. My parents sent me a text message the day after my partner’s funeral telling me it was time to move on with my life . . . I had people on Facebook, when I shared old memories, saying I should get his page shut down. People just want your grief to go away. You lose as many friends as you gain in support.”

The legacy of death

Grace: “I’ve been to nearly as many funerals as I have had birthdays. I am 27. The death that had a profound impact on me was my Dad taking his life when I was 22. I was in such a whirlwind of grief and trauma, I had to build a life from scratch again . . . After that happened I started getting what you’d call selective hearing. I started hearing more and more stories and realised what a major problem it was in this country. I set my phone camera up and had about half a bottle of red . . . I put a little video online and that kind of took off. Cool Change NZ [an online suicide awareness and mental health community] came about because myself, Tori [Wheelans] and Georgie [Harris] all lost our dads to suicide in our 20s . . . when you experience loss, you might hear what to do from physicians and counsellors and all the rest. But a lot of the time, all you need to hear from is someone who’s been there. We just started posting online and accepting invitations to go to as many places as possible to share our stories . . . you can be quite effective if you present information to the right people.”

Diana: “Soren taught at Mt Albert Grammar. The principal Patrick Drumm was so supportive and kind and the school community has really rallied around me. They honoured him with a plaque in the hall and I gave them a tree to plant on the grounds and I formed a prize for the Year 12 statistics students. So every year I present the prize, and it’s really nice that his legacy will be carried on. A lot of people who die, they sort of get forgotten. It’s really important for your grief journey not to shut the door. To talk about them all the time and to remember them.”

Natasha: “Peter was a prolific New Zealand sculptor, so I’ve got probably 300 or 400 pieces of art. It’s great, but it’s also an albatross around my neck, because I have to find a home for these artworks . . . I’m happy to donate! There was a film at the Film Festival about Peter recently. I really enjoyed attending, I really enjoy selling artworks and dealing with exhibitions on his behalf. I really want to do the best that I can for his work, you know? That stuff keeps you going.”

A younger Grace Curtis (left) with her dad and brother - both called John.

Grief doesn’t have time limits

Grace: “People placed pressure on themselves as my support network. I was undergoing a natural, although painful, process, and nothing was going to expedite that. Of course, we want to wrap our loved ones in bubble wrap and throw them in a time machine, but the healing only happens through hurting. And, sometimes, a grieving person doesn’t want to be cradled or treated differently than before. If you’re able to create an environment for your friend or family member to laugh, cry or just be still – you are doing a fantastic job.”

Diana: “Everybody struggles in their own different ways. I stopped eating. I was eating cucumbers and cups of tea – my response to the grief was to not eat. The first year is the hardest. Birthdays, wedding anniversaries. Christmas is horrible. Soren died at our holiday house and the first year I went up there after . . . I had to pack the car myself, there was so much to do and it was just overwhelming . . . Grief just comes at you. It just grabs you at really stupid moments. You find yourself in Bunnings aimlessly wandering around and then you start crying over the Christmas lights. Why does vacuum cleaning make you cry? But it just does. In that first year, when I felt the tears coming, I just wouldn’t hold onto them. I’d cancel everything for the day and just cry until I couldn’t cry no more. You do have to be brave, but at the same time, you have to look after yourself. And you have to recognise the signals. I couldn’t understand why I felt hungry all the time – ravenous, like I could eat a feast – and then when I’d sit down, I couldn’t eat. I realised I was suffering anxiety, and I got some natural remedy chewy things that just calmed my stomach down. Oh, I can breathe again.”

Natasha: “About 2.5 years in, I think I smiled for the first time in ages. I actually joined a record club and I made a whole lot of friends and I started DJing and that gave me a little bit of joy back in my life . . . and the other thing is just having other people who have been through similar situations. I’ve got my three widows. None of us expected to be in this position. I was so spoiled. I had no bloody idea. My partner did everything for me. He made me breakfast every morning, drove me to work every day. I never took the rubbish out in my life and when he died, I had to figure out where it went. I’ve grown a lot personally, but it also gives you a lot of empathy for others. It’s gross and really cliched to say, and I would have whacked someone if they’d said it to me two years ago, but I think it actually has made me a better person.”

Ask a professional: Hospice New Zealand on supporting people who are grieving

Jacqui Swain, education programmes manager at Hospice New Zealand, recently led the review of the organisation’s Guide for Carers publication. She says supporting the bereaved requires “empathy, practicality and a genuine approach”.

Her personal approach has, she says, evolved to include specific offers of help that are easier for people to accept (“like bringing dinner on a particular day”), regular check-ins after the initial support fades, and conversations that allow people to share memories and emotions about the deceased.

Jacqui Swain, education programmes manager for Hospice New Zealand.

“I no longer shy away from discussing death – acknowledging the loss can help the bereaved feel less isolated. And I avoid projecting my loss and experience onto others.”

Swain says while everybody’s journey through grief is unique, there were some broader areas Hospice New Zealand could reflect on:

Most useful

Listen with empathy: People value straightforwardness and genuine connection. Being present and listening to the bereaved without judgement can provide immense comfort.

Practical support: Offering to help with everyday tasks. Bringing over a homemade meal, helping with housework, childcare or in the garden can be incredibly beneficial. Bringing prepared food alleviates the burden of cooking; household items like paper towels, cleaning supplies, or even groceries can be very helpful during a chaotic time.

Sharing memories: Taking time to share stories about the deceased can help celebrate their life and provide a sense of connection.

Least useful

Clichés and platitudes: Phrases like “They’re in a better place” can feel dismissive. Instead, acknowledging the pain and loss is more meaningful.

Comparative grieving: Saying “I know how you feel” can undermine their unique experience. Each person’s grief is personal and distinct.

Pressure to grieve a certain way: Suggesting they should be over it by a certain time can be harmful. Grief doesn’t adhere to a timeline.

Large gifts: Items that require maintenance, like big plants, or a pet, may become an additional task rather than a comfort; gifts that require emotional investment, such as framed photos or sentimental trinkets, clothing or decorative items might feel overwhelming.

Making contact

Text v phone call: A quick text can be appropriate, especially in the immediate aftermath. It gives the bereaved space to respond when they feel ready. A call can feel more personal and connected, but it’s essential to consider the individual’s emotional state. A gentle approach is key and knowing how the person prefers to communicate can help. A text acknowledging a person’s loss with a message “please let me know when you’re ready for a chat” could be a safe way to communicate if you’re unsure.

What to write in a card: Keep it simple and heartfelt. A message like “I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m here for you during this tough time” is sincere and supportive. Avoid platitudes and instead focus on what the deceased meant to you or share a cherished memory such as, “I’ll always remember their fantastic sense of humour.”

Understand that grief isn’t linear: People may expect a straightforward progression through stages (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance), but many find themselves cycling back through stages or experiencing them simultaneously. This complexity can be confusing for outsiders, who might expect the bereaved to “move on” after a certain period.

Kim Knight is a multiple-media award-winning journalist who works in the New Zealand Herald’s premium lifestyle team.