The Mourning Bench

“Come, sit beside me on my mourning bench.” - Nicholas Wolterstorff, Lament for a Son

Grief. It’s a universal experience. At some point, we all experience grief. It comes in many different shapes and forms, but we all know at least one version of its pain. Yet, there is a lot of talk about “what not to do or say” to someone who is grieving. Perhaps we have never experienced their particular version of grief, but what is it that makes us feel so lost and inept to support a grieving person?

I think a major factor is the intensity of grief. When someone is in the midst of raw, often recent, grief, the emotional intensity of it is profound. So we want to make it better or lighter for them. It’s hard for us to tolerate the intense pain that they are experiencing; we want to pull them out of it, perhaps so we don’t drown in it ourselves. We search for words of comfort or hope. We look for something that we can do. There may be a time when these things are helpful, but that usually comes later. And when someone is in the thick of raw, emotional grief, these responses often make them feel misunderstood and isolated.

One of the best narratives of this experience I have read is from Nicholas Wolterstorff, who wrote Lament for a Son after the tragic loss of his son. It is a painfully beautiful description of the experience of grief, and helpful and unhelpful responses of others. In one part, he writes about being on a mourning bench and longing for someone to simply come and sit with him.

This image has stuck with me, and been very meaningful in my own experiences of grief. I feel immense gratitude for the people who came and sat beside me in my most painful moments of grief. Sometimes this was in the form of a conversation in which they just listened and allowed me to express however much I wanted to at that time, whether a lot or just to sit in silence. Sometimes it was dropping off a meal, so I didn’t have to think about the monotonous daily tasks that can feel exhausting when you’re grieving. Other times it was a simple expression of “I’m here for you.” All of these things helped me feel surrounded by love in the midst of grief. It didn’t take away from the intensity of the grief, but it made that intensity more bearable.

So if you’re grieving and people ask what they can do, think about your mourning bench. What would it look like for someone to sit with you? And if you know someone who is grieving, maybe offer to just sit with them, literally. And if they tell you other things they would find helpful, do what you can. But do not underestimate the power of simply sitting next to someone in their most painful moment. There is great healing in that act.