Grief is not something the British have ever been comfortable with. A 2025 study by the charity Sue Ryder found that 83 per cent of people think the nation is bad at talking about death and grief, that 88 per cent of people feel alone in their grief and that more than one in four feel they can’t talk about their grief.
This is a shame as, for most of us, grief is inescapable. If you love someone, there is a strong chance that, eventually, you will lose them.
In the absence of the “right” words to say to the bereaved, many people opt to say nothing at all, or to pretend nothing has happened. This, however, can often compound what is already one of life’s most painful periods.
Sam Meekings is a novelist, professor of creative writing and specialist researcher. When his younger brother died suddenly from an undiagnosed heart condition at the age of 24, he found himself silenced by shame, unable to express how broken he felt. “Nothing made sense any more,” he says. “Without my little brother, I didn’t know who I was. Without him, what was the point?”
He is now on a mission to destigmatise grief, help other bereaved people open up and use writing as a form of a recovery. Here, Meekings shares seven things to say to someone who is grieving. “My journey through grief has been messy, painful and rocky,” he says. “I hope the tips below might help others who are struggling.”
‘Take your time’
“Grief is not something people get over quickly. The shock will wear off eventually, after a few days, weeks or months. But the emptiness, heartbreak, anxiety, bewilderment and raw pain of it all linger for a long time. People don’t ‘get over’ grief. Instead, we find a way to keep going. So make sure that people know there is no rush to try to get back to normal. There may be good days where they feel like their old self again, but then there may be the smallest of reminders that plunges them back into sorrow. Grief is a rollercoaster. Getting through it isn’t linear and can’t be hurried.”
‘We don’t have to talk’
“When my brother died, I didn’t know how to talk about all the emotions burning inside me. I was ashamed of how broken I felt and I worried that if anyone asked me how I was doing, I would start sobbing and never be able to stop. I turned down invitations from friends and avoided acquaintances. I wish a friend had told me that we could meet up and not talk about my brother. That we could hang out and not even mention his name. I wasn’t able to articulate or process how I was feeling: that took time. At the start, I just needed company, with no pressure to try to explain what I was going through.”
‘It’s normal to be angry’
“Grief can often be messy and difficult: rage, frustration, sadness, self-pity and many other complex emotions that society teaches us to keep hidden are common elements of grieving. There will be bad days, full of doubt and disbelief, longing and regret, and raw anger. There is no avoiding that. We don’t always feel able to make sense of grief (let alone begin to process what has happened) for a long time after the shock wears off.”
‘There’s no such thing as a “right” way to grieve’
“I’ve never had much time for the idea that grief has five stages – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance – because the list seems too short. Where is homesickness, panic and rage on that schedule? But the other reason this idea of five stages bothers me is because I know there is no single way to grieve. I’ve known people who bury themselves in work and cling to their regular routine, and others who have taken many weeks off and need stillness and space. There is no ‘correct’ way to show our grief, or one set timeline for processing those overpowering emotions. It is completely different for everyone.”
‘Let’s go for a walk’
“Try to get them out of the house. Whether to a park or round the block, up a hill or to the beach, to the woods or through the city – the location isn’t important. The key is changing our routine and stopping us from sinking completely into sadness and getting stuck. Walking increases the circulation of blood to the brain (as well as to the body) and so it helps us to focus our attention and to make new connections. This is useful because it stops our brains from spiralling round the same old thoughts and longings and regrets. Try to get someone grieving outside and into a different pattern, even if it’s only for 10 minutes.”
‘Do you remember that time…’
“When I was finally ready to talk, all I wanted to discuss was my brother. Sharing memories of him with friends and family was a way of keeping him with us, of sustaining that connection with him. When we talked about his ridiculous childhood practical jokes and obsession with Arnold Schwarzenegger, for instance, we were soon smiling and laughing. Remembering can occasionally be triggering and upsetting, but just as often it is full of pleasure. Talking about him meant he was still part of us, that he wasn’t forgotten and that our connection with him wasn’t completely broken.”
‘Try writing’
“Writing stopped me from getting stuck in endless circles of anger and regret and misery. At first, I wrote to my brother, updating him on what we were all doing, and telling him off for leaving us all behind. Later, I wrote about him. This was incredibly beneficial, because writing helps us to process the things that have happened to us. It was only through writing about my brother that I have managed to draw strength from the memories we shared, and only by writing honestly and openly about my struggles with grief that I have come to accept what has happened – to him, to me, to both of us. In the darkest of times, I found that writing was a lifeline.”
‘Wonder and Loss: A Practical Memoir for Writing about Grief‘ by Sam Meekings (Bloomsbury Academic, £14.99) is out now