I’ve always struggled with the proper etiquette for death and illness. It’s not something Mom or Dad explained outright. They just seemed to know what to say, what to do, when to do it and, just as important, what not to do. I’ve always thought there was a fine line between being comforting and intruding. I’ve straddled that line all of my life.

Recently, my friend, Robin, had major surgery and her husband broke his arm. The day she came home from the hospital, I thought they probably wanted to settle in, get some rest, find their routine. I didn’t want to intrude, so I didn’t visit. The next day, I thought they were still resting. A day later, I saw frequent posts on Facebook regarding visitors that had stopped by (all bringing cakes and pies and other yummy things to eat). I had nothing yummy to eat that I could offer. I stayed home. I rationalized: They’re receiving plenty of visitors so they won’t miss me. Two weeks into her 6 week recovery, the posts of visitors dwindled. I knew I should go, but I didn’t put on make-up that day.

I did not want to intrude (still) but I wanted to see her. When it comes to serious illness (and death), I am unusually indecisive.

I grabbed a vintage Christmas ornament I had (it just felt too weird going empty-handed. I need to get over that!), threw on some shoes and went. The visit was wonderful.

There is one thing I’ve figured out. When someone is hurting, go and visit them.  5 minutes of your time can make a world of difference to someone who is struggling. JUST GO!

If you’re still uncertain and you want to do more, know that there are no rules. There are no right or wrong answers to questions about what you should do and say; what you should not do or say. What makes one person uncomfortable might be comforting to another. How do you know? The following guidelines seemed to help me and some of my friends through some rough times:

ALWAYS:

• Be yourself.
• Don’t give unsolicited advice.
• Don’t imply blame. (This may seem like a no-brainer but you might be surprised to know people actually say things like: “Diet could have prevented this.”, “I knew this would happen since you/they smoked.” and exercise, weight, lifestyle, etc.)
• Be respectful. Feel free to say “I’m sorry.”, “I care about you.”, and even “I don’t know what to say.” Do NOT say things like “I know how you feel.” (no, you don’t), “Things could be worse.”, or “You have to stop feeling like this.”
• Don’t pretend everything is normal or avoid talking about it. (If they need to talk about it, then talk about it. Keep in mind, though, you don’t always have to talk about it, either.)
• Listen. Just listen. (You don’t have to have the answers, or even respond all of the time. You don’t have to cheer them up. They have the right to be sad, angry, or confused.)
• Bring a meal, but do it right. (Check if others have brought meals. Your friend might not need one more meatloaf to add to the 14 in the fridge. If your friend is going through chemo, understand they may not be able to eat everything. Chili might not be the best choice. And don’t assume you’ll be sharing it with them.)
• Leave your phone in the car. (This should be their time and I doubt they want to spend it listening to your conversation with someone else or watch you texting.)
• Include your friend in normal plans (dinners, outings, even parties). It is not your place to decide for them whether or not they’re up for it. It just might be the distraction they need.
• Keep in touch, but if you chat in a social forum (eg., Facebook) please don’t do it in the comments for everyone else to read. Respect their privacy!
• Keep visits brief. (Better to visit often for a short while then to visit once for 5 hours. They may not have the energy (or desire) for a long visit.)
• Be there for them months later. Everyone else’s life may have gone back to normal, but theirs probably never will.

DEATH:

When a friend loses someone in their life, they need you more then ever. Even if you’re not necessarily close to the person, extend your sympathy.

• Attend. If at all possible, attend the viewing or service. It matters. (Our cousins, Heidi and Colin, drove 4 hours, crossed the bridge from Canada, rented a car and drove 2 more hours to visit us during Mom’s funeral. She said “How could I not?”. It meant so much to us to know Mom was loved that much. It helped more then words can express.)
• Extend your condolences. Call, send a card or flowers, or visit. (It doesn’t matter that you “meant to” send that card, but now it’s 4 months later. Send it anyway! Don’t be afraid that you’re “reminding them” of their loss. Trust me, they’re aware, regardless of how much time has passed. They will love to hear from you and know that you miss their loved one, too, or are thinking of them.)
• Don’t diminish the loss. (Refrain from making comments like “You’re young. You can find someone else.”, “You need to get another dog.”, “It’s really a blessing.” or even “He’s in a better place.” (Even if your friend believes their loved one is with God, I am certain they prefer them here.)
• Tell them how you feel. (Share a good memory, tell them you are sorry for their loss, or simply, that you are thinking of them.)
• Remember your friend (for a year or more), especially on special days. (Keep in touch and remind them you’re there for them, especially on days that were important: Anniversaries, birthdays, holidays.)

 ILLNESS:

A serious illness changes lives forever. Be supportive.

• Hug your friend. (Most illnesses are not contagious, but people act as if they are.)
• Help with everyday responsibilities. (Don’t ask “What can I do?”. They may be too ill or tired to think, or too embarrassed to ask. Offer to do something specific: Laundry, dishes, babysitting, cutting the lawn, shopping, running errands like picking up prescriptions. If they decline the offer, don’t take it personally.)
• Drive them to appointments or treatments. (Driving can be taxing (or impossible) and the company in the waiting room (or during treatments, if appropriate) may be welcome. Offer to take notes for them.)
• Offer to be the “updater”. (Many people, such as coworkers, may be calling for updates. Be the person that provides updates so your friend doesn’t have to worry about it. While you’re at it, offer to help sort through their mail or email to identify time sensitive mail from well wishes and inquiries.)
• Look for solutions to side-effects. (Many of our friends have let us know that Vernor’s Ginger Ale is the one and only thing they can keep down when going through chemo and Werther’s Original hard candy helps diminish the metallic taste in their mouth. Whenever we visit a friend going through chemo, we try to bring Vernor’s and Werther’s Originals.)
• Don’t wear perfume. (When visiting, try not to use perfume or other heavy scents. Oftentimes, it can be nauseating to someone ill.)
• Visit as often as you can. (Keep the visits brief and do NOT bring your children.)
• Call, text, email and send cards frequently. (Let them know ahead of time that they don’t have to answer the phone or respond. Don’t use text-speak or write illegibly. They don’t need the additional stress of trying to figure out what you’re saying.)
• Don’t confuse “lightness” with being thoughtless. (A common mistake, people want to appear chipper and mean to be light, but are actually being thoughtless. My friend, who went through chemo, told me of the time someone brought her a beautiful, homemade, chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, then told her to avoid sugar “since it’ll bring back the cancer”. Another day, she took the time to get dressed and go to church. She put on makeup, dressed, and wore a wig since she had lost her hair. A friend thoughtlessly said “It’s about time you got your hair cut.”)
• Be truthful. (Don’t tell a friend you can’t take them to an appointment or visit because of something important then post on Facebook that you’re getting a manicure or shopping. Be honest.)

I still sometimes avoid contacting friends going through a rough time because I get anxiety that I’ll say the wrong thing, or be insensitive, or worse, break out in tears. I try to remind myself, it’s OK. They’re my friends as much as I’m theirs. I think they’ll understand.