Do not say, "Call me if you need anything," because your friend will not call. Not because they do not need, but because identifying a need, figuring out who might fill that need, and then making a phone call to ask is light years beyond their energy levels, capacity or interest. Instead, make concrete offers: "I will be there at 4:00 p.m. on Thursday to bring your recycling to the curb," or "I will stop by each morning on my way to work and give the dog a quick walk." Be reliable.

To the new griever, the influx of people who want to show their support can be seriously overwhelming. What is an intensely personal and private time can begin to feel like living in a fish bowl. There might be ways you can shield and shelter your friend by setting yourself up as the designated point person-the one who relays information to the outside world, or organizes well-wishers. Gatekeepers are really helpful.

My tragedy is not contagious; you will not catch your children's death from me. I know you don't know what to say. I wouldn't have a few months ago, either. A little advice? Don't platitude me. Do not start any sentences with the phrase "at least," for you will then witness my miraculous transformation into Grief Warrior.

On the page, everything is allowed. Everything has a voice.

When someone you love dies, you don't just lose them in the present or in the past. You lose the future you should have had, and might have had, with them. They are missing from all the life that was to be. Seeing other people get married, have kids, travel-all the things you expected out of life with your person-gone. Seeing other children go to kindergarten, or graduate, or get married—all those things your child should have done, had they lived. Your kids never get to know their brilliant uncle; your friend never gets to read your finished book.

A day (or more) inside a blanket fort of your own choosing is healthy.

[Being kind to yourself means not letting your own mind beat you up.]

[Early grief is liminal: we are no longer who we were and not yet solidified into something new—everything is in flux.]

[Anxiety can be overwhelming as there's no shortage of potential disasters. You can trust yourself.]

[Grief also involves mourning your old life.]

[When people try to console your loss but make you cringe, there might be an unspoken (and perhaps unintended) "so please stop feeling bad"]

[Life is more about integrating than improvement.]

most things offered as "support" in our culture are really designed to solve problems or to get you out of pain. If it feels wrong to you, it is.

[The doctor who came up with the popular 'five stages of grief' regrets writing them in that way because it's not linear and universal: there is no standard process.]

[The griever and those who care about them may want a road map to guarantee success, but grief isn't predictable or structured.]

[Culture emphasizing happy endings, solutioneering, recovery, overcoming, redemption confuses us into seeing bad things as happening 'for growth']

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Disadvantaged people who suffer so that the more privileged can live easier are labelled 'heroes' to keep them working.

[Grief is to be carried, not fixed.]