“Just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.” –2 Corinthians 1:7

When tragedy hits – the death of a loved one, an unhopeful diagnosis from the doctor, financial struggle – I tend to want to fix things. I want to run to the person and ask if they’ve done x, y, or z, or tried this or that to help remedy the situation. I over emphasize positivity and hope, and sometimes I don’t sit in the ick long enough to acknowledge what is really happening.

As I’ve gotten older and learned about empathy, I realize that the most important thing I can give someone in the face of a hard time is my presence. 

I love the Jewish tradition of sitting shiva where friends and relatives surround a family in mourning. There is intentional space to talk about loss and the grieving are open to accepting comfort from others.

In our culture, it seems counterintuitive to acknowledge that something is terrible, but in my life, that is what has helped process hurt. After a sharing a story of a painful experience, when a friend looks at me and says, “Wow, that is really hard. I’m so sorry,” it allows me to put down the walls of self defensiveness trying to convince my own ego (and everyone around me) that things are fine, so I can actually deal with the thing.

With others, I’ve learned to stop trying to fix the problem and simply acknowledge that sometimes, life is shitty. I’ve stopped the platitudes of, “everything will be fine” or “this happened for a reason” (even if I believe that). Instead, sitting shiva can look like a phone call, especially if I’m far away. Or sitting on a couch together in jammies. A coffee date. Margaritas if appropriate and available. But the point is showing up and just being. 

We can’t start to grieve if we don’t acknowledge there is a loss in the first place. We can’t fix most problems with words alone, but presence – sometimes in silence – can be a powerful elixir. 

[Photo: Enjoying a sunset in Baja with my friend, Pete, during a time of processing and healing.]