From the series: “Grief in Real Time: A Caregiver’s Journey Through Sudden Loss”
Some moments burn into your memory forever.
In the quiet early hours, as the shock of my father-in-law’s sudden passing began to settle into my chest, another weight emerged: I had to wake up my husband and pull him into the same storm of grief.
While still on the phone with the nurse, I learned they had called our daughter first—her number had been listed as an emergency contact. She had already been awakened with the news, and she dearly loved her Grandpa. I still needed to call our son.
Then it hit me—my mother-in-law was alone in the emergency room. I had to notify her brothers, who were scheduled to be visited by Mom & Dad later that day, and so began the cascade of phone calls to other family, friends, and coworkers. Each conversation felt like a fresh wave of loss, spoken over and over again.
At one point, my daughter—raw and overwhelmed—cried out, “Can you please stop? I can’t hear this one more time today.”There’s no handbook for this part of grief, but I want to share what I learned as someone who walked through it—heart in hand, voice trembling, hoping to speak with both clarity and care.
Supporting Someone Through Their First Grief Response
When we arrived in Montana, my mother-in-law hadn’t fully processed the news. She’d been there when it happened, but shock is a strange protector—it can make the unbearable feel surreal.
We sat beside her. We listened. And when words felt too heavy, we simply stayed quiet with her.
What helped in those moments:
- Soft, steady presence. Sometimes silence is the most respectful form of support.
- Repeating information gently. Grief distorts time and memory—reassurance without frustration is a gift.
- Allowing emotions to come in waves. One minute we all found ourselves asking logistical questions. The next, we’d be crying. Then blank. All normal.
Making the Calls You Don’t Want to Make
The list of who needed to be notified grew quickly.
There’s no easy way to tell a child that their grandfather has passed. Or to call a sibling drop a bomb into their day. You worry about saying the “right” thing—but there is no perfect script. There is only honesty, warmth, and presence.
Some things I learned:
- Lead with the truth, and keep it simple. “I’m so sorry to tell you this, but Dad passed away this morning.” Then pause. Let silence hold space.
- Expect a range of reactions. Some will cry immediately. Some will ask for details. Some will say nothing. Grief has no uniform.
- You don’t need to have all the answers. It’s okay to say, “I don’t know yet, but I’ll keep you updated.”
If you’re calling multiple people, consider asking one or two trusted family members to help notify others. Give yourself breaks. This emotional labor is heavy.
We found this to be helpful with contacting many church friends by calling the Pastor and allowing him to get the news out not worrying about how many to call when.
Writing the First Announcement
We didn’t particularly find the need to notify some in writing but a suggestion if needed would be to write a short message for broader notification—extended family, friends, church members.
In moments like these, less is more.
Keep it factual, warm, and grounded:
“With deep sorrow, we share that [Name] passed away unexpectedly on [Date]. We will share details about the memorial service as they become available. Please hold our family in your prayers.”
You may want to include a contact person or email for questions, especially if you’re not up for fielding dozens of responses.
Educational Note: Emotional and Physical Toll of Being the Messenger
Delivering sad news is its own form of grief. You absorb not only your own pain but also the reactions of others. This can lead to emotional fatigue, irritability, headaches, or even numbness.
To care for yourself while caring for others:
- Set boundaries: It’s okay to turn off your phone for a while.
- Take breaks between calls.
- Cry, breathe, pray, rest—whatever helps you reset.
- If spiritual or emotional overwhelm kicks in, reach out to a counselor, chaplain, or grief support line.
You don’t need to be strong for everyone. You just need to be real.
The Power of Letting Others Help
This part of grief often triggers our inner manager—the part of us that organizes, fixes, informs. But grief is not a task to manage alone.
Let others help carry the weight.
- Say yes when someone offers to make calls.
- Let a friend bring dinner or respond to texts on your behalf.
- Share the emotional load with those who are also grieving. You don’t have to protect them from your sadness. I knew it was important to cry with and in front of my Mother In Law because in years previous when my Uncle who was more like a father to me passed, I kept my tears private thinking my tears would burden my Aunt but instead she finally broke and asked me, “Don’t you even care? You aren’t even crying. My heart is ripped open wide and you can’t even shed a tear.” That penetrated me and I allowed my tears to flow freely and shared memories for hours – that prepared me to do the same this time which actually helped my broken heart too.
Closing Reflection
Telling the story of someone’s death is one of the hardest things we’ll ever do. But in sharing the pain, we also begin to share the love they left behind.
Each conversation, each tear, each embrace—they form a kind of tribute. A first chapter in how we remember them.
In the next part of this series, I’ll share the whirlwind of planning and attending a memorial service—while still trying to hold space for personal grief.
Until then, if you’re walking through a similar moment: breathe, pause, and be kind to your own heart. You are not alone.
