​Grief hijacking – also known as competitive grieving, grief, emotional or energy vampires, grief tourists – call it what you like, it’s exhausting and heartbreaking. You’ve started a conversation, whether on social media or in real life, about your loss, and the conversation twists to become about their loss, not yours. They might be grieving for your person, they might bring in their own loss in a way that it seems like they are playing grief Top Trumps. They might be the acquaintances who pop up from your past to tell you that you are brave, or share your social media posts to show that they are ‘supporting’ their grieving friend without ever actually doing anything to help. Whichever it is, the person you are talking to has made it all about them.
 
If you are approached by grief vampires and grief hijackers, have boundaries to help protect yourself. Share only what you are comfortable about sharing, and say no if they ask too many questions or want to share things about you on social media that you want to keep private.
 
If you, as the friend or family member, want to respond to people’s posts or stories about bereavement, think about what to say. Remember that it’s about them, not you. And if you are going to offer help, be there and do it. 

Christmas can be hard for some people. This is written for The Widows' Handbook, but there are a lot of reasons why people don't want to be forced to be jolly at Christmas. ​

​Don't push people who don't want to be part of the Christmas spirit - people who have been bereaved, particularly if they were bereaved during the Festive season, don't always want to be part of the jollities.
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• Don't tell them they are a 'stick in the mud' when they don't want to sign up to Secret Santa.
• Don't call them a killjoy when they don't want to wear a Christmas jumper.
• Don't get at them if they don't want to come to a Christmas party.
• Don't make a fuss if they don't put up any decorations.
• Don't tell them to 'just get on with Christmas'.

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Invite people who struggle with Christmas along to things, and if they say no, accept  the answer. Tell them the offer remains open if they change their minds. Accept that they might say yes, and then change their minds. And then give them peace and space.
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Remember that if you invite grieving people, you are inviting their grief too - it's part of who they are. 

Above everything, be kind.

When you hear that someone you know and care about has been widowed, for most people the first instinct is to say, 'what can I do to help?' But this puts the pressure on the widowed person to think of something, and that's not easy in the moment. These are the things that helped me.
For the widow:

• Ask someone to find you a pad of sticky notes and a pen, and write down anything that needs doing. Feeding the cat, cleaning, fitting a doorbell, buying food. Anything. Big or small. And then every time someone says ‘what can I do?’, give them a sticky note.

For the friend or family:

• Be there. On the end of a phone, an email, a letter, messaging, in person. For as long as it takes
• However... I struggled with people turning up unannounced – for me, a quick message to say 'I'm around this afternoon, can I pop in' was much easier to deal with than the doorbell suddenly ringing. Similarly, I found messages easier to cope with than phone calls – the conversation could be a prelude to a call, or it might just continue by text
• Suggest specific things that you could do, rather than ask an open-ended question – 'I'd like to come over on Thursday evening and cut your lawn, fill your freezer, drop off some instant or easy-to-cook food or meal replacement shakes, pick up your washing or clean'
• But... allow the bereaved person to maintain control. Don't reorganise their cupboards, throw things away or go though their washing basket without permission. 
• Keep your widowed person involved. Invite them to things. Be aware that they might say no. Don't put pressure on them, and accept that they might change their minds at the last minute
• Talk about the person they have lost
• You might feel helpless, but a grieving person doesn't expect you to make it all better - they just want to know that you care
• If you can, remember their important milestone dates
• And most importantly – do what you have offered. Walk the walk as well as talk the talk

There are things best never said to a widow…

• They are in a better place. No, the better place is here with me!
• What did they die of? If I want to tell you I will. But that's private.
• Grief is the price you pay for love. Only in daytime movies about bad things happening to good people and them overcoming adversity.
• You are so brave! No, I'm not. I'm doing what I have to in order to keep going. And are you implying I'm not grieving enough?
• You are so strong. See above.
• I don't know what I would do if it happened to me. I pray you never have to find out
• Everything happens for a reason. No, it doesn't.
• At least you had X years together. But I wanted (X+more) years.
• At least you got to have someone - not everyone does. So, I'm supposed to be grateful they died?
• At least you had until death do you part, and didn't have to see them move in with someone else. Why on earth do you think they were going to move on?
• Perhaps it's better that you didn't have children. How is that a comfort? How do you know I had the choice? I might have been trying. I might have been infertile. I might just have not wanted them. Does that make my grief less?
• At least you don't have children - you can have so many holidays now. I'm sorry? Did I hear you right?
• God must have wanted them with him/God needed them. But I wanted/needed them here with me!
• God only let this happen because he knew you were strong enough to deal with it. Umm. No. Not everyone believes in the same God as you, and even if they do, that doesn't sound like a very nice version of God. And if  I'd known, I would just have been a bit weaker...
• It's all part of God's plan. See above.
• I know exactly how you feel. My mum/dog/gerbil died, or I got divorced. Not the same. I know those things hurt. I know you are trying to help. But they are NOT the same and you don't know how I feel unless you've been here.
• Time heals. Nope. Time changes things but it doesn't heal.
• You don't have any luck, do you. Are you suggesting that it's my fault?
• You are young. You'll find someone new. So, replacing my partner is like replacing a worn-out coat?
• I hope you won't be left on the shelf now. So... I'm a jar of coffee?
• This will make you a better person. ​Better than what?
• You'll always have your memories. I know, but I'd rather have my person
• You can get a new partner but I can't get a new child/sibling/cousin. Well, yes. I know. It's pants for all of us. We all lost them. But also see above.
• It's what they would have wanted. And you know that how?
• It could be worse. I loved them. They died. That took away my past, my present and my future. How could it possibly be worse?
• I miss them so much. If you are saying this to share my grief, then that does help me to know how much they were loved. But if you are saying this because you want me to comfort you, then please don't.
• Shouldn't you be getting over it by now? Oh – so there's a timetable? This is my grief, and it runs on my time. And  even if I do 'get over it', I will always miss them.
• I think you just need to pull yourself together. See above.
• It’s a week/month since they died; do you feel any better? See above.
• So - what's next for you? See above.
• I expected that you would have done most of your grieving when they were diagnosed. See above.
• Shouldn't you be moving on? See above. And if I do, I will move forward, not move on. It's different. I'm not moving on and leaving my memories of them behind, I'm moving forward with them in my head and my heart.
• Cheer up, you're back on the market now! What?
• There's a silver lining to every cloud. Really? I thought there was just rain.
• Life is about chapters, and this one has closed. But it wasn't supposed to.
• They'd want you to be happy. I know they would. But actually I think what they would really want is to be here.
• You need to get rid of all of their stuff. I might. Or I might not. I might do it now, soon, later or never. I need to do this in my time.
• What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. What doesn't kill me hurts me, traumatises me, and means that I am barely surviving. It leaves me scared, scarred, bitter, resentful, overly cautious, lonely, angry, misanthropic and prone to violent fantasies, with an unhealthy knowledge of some very dark things and a sense of humour blacker than a bin liner in a coal cellar.
• It was their time to die. Before they'd started living their best life/raising a family/having a career/writing a novel/breeding wombats with the person they loved the most? Really?
• You have such a lovely life. I'm trying to make the best of what it is now, but it was lovely (or lovelier) before. 
• Have you throught about getting a dog? No, not really. And even if I was, do you think a dog would replace them?
• I bet you miss them. Well, yes...
• Are you getting counselling? I might be or might not be, and I might not want to talk about it - and it depends whether you are being supportive in suggesting it, or just telling me that you don't want to listen, and you'd rather I spoke to a professional.
• God only takes the good ones. Really? Why on earth would he do that? And wouldn't that mean the world is now full of really ancient horrid people?
• You are so lucky, being able to please yourself all the time. I'd rather be with my partner actually.
• You are so lucky not having to pay a mortgage any more. See above.  
• At least you can get single person council tax now. See above. And seriously?
• You've got an amazing new car - how lucky you are. See above. Also - I loved my old car, but I just can't maintain it without them, so I've had to buy a new one.
• You must be relieved that you've got their life insurance. Not everyone has life insurance. If they have, it might not cover everything. I might not want to talk about it. And don't you think I'd rather have them?
• At least you've got someone new now. Being with someone new, as lovely as they are, as happy as they make me, has nothing to do with how much I miss my dead partner. ​
• Are you keeping up with your personal hygiene? Erm... I'm just going to leave this one here...
• [When there is an age gap between the couple] You must have been prepared; you knew they would die first. Not really, no. We are never prepared for bereavement. When we lose someone it's too soon, however old they are. 

​Don't let this put you off talking to a widow – hearing the wrong thing is better than hearing nothing at all. Tell them you care, that you are there for them (and make sure that you are - see What can I do to help?), and listen to them. Listening is often the most important part.

Worried you'll say the wrong thing? Read this awesome piece called How not to say the wrong thing.