This sounds obvious, but many people vanish the moment things get emotional or uncomfortable. Grief and anticipatory loss make people nervous. We worry we’ll say the wrong thing or accidentally turn into a walking disaster. But the only wrong thing is to go quiet. Even a simple message that says, “I don’t know what to say, but I’m here” is better than silence. It’s not about having the right words. It’s about showing up.
Some friends will want to talk about their parent, the diagnosis, the weird moments, the difficult decisions, and the heartbreaking stuff. Others will want a distraction and will appreciate a moment to talk about literally anything else, like how their cat has started watching telly or how annoying the neighbours are.
Ask gently what they need, or just read the room. “Do you want to talk about it or would a good old-fashioned rant about the price of cheese be more helpful today?”
And then there’s the time pressure. The creeping realisation that these are the “lasts.” His last Christmas has already passed, maybe it was lovely, maybe it was strained, or maybe it was just quietly loaded with meaning no one quite knew how to put into words. His last New Year-is your friend feeling guilty because they went overseas to spend time with their son in America? His last Easter is coming up this weekend. They are bound to be wondering if he make it to Father’s Day in June, and what on earth will they do with his present they have already bought…? You hope, of course you hope he will be there, but even the hoping feels fragile. And your friend is holding all of that. Every daffodil, every sunny day, every seemingly ordinary moment is suddenly underlined with quiet heartbreak. It’s not just time they’re losing, it’s the time that was meant to be, especially for someone who is very close to their family.
t’s so easy to say “Let me know if you need anything,” but people rarely take you up on it. Instead, offer something specific:
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“Can I drop off some food this week?”
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“Want me to walk the dog for you one day?”
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“I’ve got Thursday free, fancy a walk or just want some company for a bit?”
When someone’s whole world is being turned upside down, they might not have the bandwidth to make decisions or even know what help to ask for. Be gently proactive.
Yes, this is a serious, sad, emotional time, but grief doesn’t cancel humour. Some of the funniest, most ridiculous moments happen in the middle of the saddest days. Your friend might make dark jokes, recall silly stories, or just want to laugh at something completely unrelated. Let them.
There is no silver lining to this. There’s no pep talk that makes it okay. Resist the urge to say things like “At least he’s not in pain,” “Everything happens for a reason,” or “They’ve had a good life.” These might be well-meaning, but they often sting more than soothe.
Instead, just validate what your friend is feeling. “This is really hard. I’m so sorry.” Full stop. That’s enough.
The days and weeks leading up to the loss are brutal, but so is the quiet aftermath. Everyone rushes in during the crisis, then quietly slips away once the funeral’s over and life “goes back to normal.” But your friend’s new normal might feel hollow, strange, and lonely. What will they now do on Saturdays when they used to go over to watch the football together?
Keep checking in. Remember anniversaries. Say their parent’s name. Share a memory when the time feels right. Don’t let the support expire.
You don’t need training in grief counselling to be a good friend. You just need to be human. Make space for the mess, for the silence, for the rage, the exhaustion, and the random conversations at 2am about whether it’s okay to still laugh when everything hurts. Bring tea. Bring chocolate and tissues. Bring a bit of normal into the chaos. That’s love in action.
Supporting a friend through the final chapter of their parent’s life isn’t about being perfect, so please don’t let that hold you back from reaching out to them. It’s about being present. You won’t always get it right, none of us do and they will understand. But if you keep showing up with love, humour, patience, and the occasional pizza, you’re doing more than enough.
And when the time comes that you need that same kind of support, chances are, they’ll remember how you were there: awkward, kind, wonderfully human, and they’ll show up for you too.
If you need support, do reach out to us.
Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen
