How can I support someone going through a difficult time?

Over the last year or so, my husband Joel and I have been in what I can only call a difficult season. Both of our moms have been in hospice—one on each coast, both far from our home in Colorado. We've made dozens of cross-country trips. We've sat with bedridden moms, held hands, sang songs, laughed, cried, listened to music, watched Golden Girls, and said the things you say when time is short. Joel's sweet mom passed away in April. My mom, though she is weak and weary, is still fighting to hold on to her life. Here's hoping that she is on and stays on her highest and best path through this painful and difficult journey. 

In the middle of all of this, our friends showed up. A meal train was organized. Money was donated—and I want to say clearly, that money helped enormously, covering costs we couldn't have anticipated (flights, hotels, rental cars, dog boarding). But what I remember most, what made me feel most held, were the doorway moments. The friend who showed up with tasty take out customized just for us, looked me in the eyes, and asked, genuinely, how I was doing. The co-worker who offered to watch our dogs when we had to fly out on short notice. Those gestures were enormous in their impact. They made us feel like we were part of a community that had us.

I've been thinking about those moments ever since, and about what it actually means to support someone going through something hard. If someone you love is struggling right now, here's what I've learned from the receiving end.

First: understand the difference between empathy and sympathy

Before anything else, I'd encourage you to watch this short animated video by Dr. Brené Brown on empathy versus sympathy. It's three minutes long and it helped inform how I think about showing up for people. The short version: sympathy looks down from above and says "wow, that looks bad." Empathy gets right on your level and says "I know what it's like down here, and you're not alone." While sympathy as described here can create isolation and distance, empathy creates real connection. 

Show up in person when you can

The most powerful thing you can do for someone who is suffering is to be physically present with them. Not to fix anything—you can't—but just to be there. Spend time together, just visiting or maybe tackling something together. Ask how they're really doing, and then be quiet and listen to the answer. This is harder than it sounds, and rarer than it should be. But it is the thing people remember. One way to enter the conversation that I've been using lately: "How is your grief these days?" This question makes it really clear that I know they are grieving, that it makes sense to me that they are grieving, and that I am not afraid of their grief—there's space for their grief when they're with me. Try this out on a friend who lost someone recently and also on one whose loss is a year or two old. That idea that time heals all wounds? Nope, that's not a real thing. Those with older grief will really appreciate you acknowledging that that loss is still part of their life. 

Bring food

When grief or crisis hits, good habits and self-care flies out the window, and people need help managing even their most basic needs so they stay strong and healthy. A meal dropped at the door is one of the most practical and loving things you can offer. Before you arrive, text ahead and see if your friend wants to have some company, a quick visit, or would rather you just drop the meal off on the stoop. Try to at least connect with them briefly to see how they are. If you want to organize something more sustained, Meal Train makes it easy to coordinate a longer-term support project with a larger group of friends.

Offer something specific

One of the hardest things about being in crisis is that when people say "let me know if you need anything," the need feels too big and too vague to articulate. It's not kind to put the onus of thinking of something you can do on someone who is already so overwhelmed. Instead, offer something specific: "I'm going to the grocery store Thursday—can I pick up a few things for you? Would you like me to bring the bags in and put things away?" or "I'd love to take your dog for a walk this weekend—with or without you" or "I have a free afternoon—would it help if I came over and did some gardening in your yard? Would you like to sit with me while I work and get some sun?" Specific offers are easy to say yes to. Open-ended ones, however loving, often go unreceived. When you put your offer out there, think about offering something that you could do as a service but that involves the opportunity for some human connection. This creates some organic, low-pressure time that might allow the person to talk if they want or need that. 

Invite them out for something small

A cup of tea. A short walk. A meal somewhere quiet. People facing grief or crisis often need to be gently drawn out of the house, but they may not have the energy to plan or initiate. Be the one who plans. Keep it low-key and low-pressure. Make it easy to say yes—and easy to cancel if they're not up for it.

Help with the logistics of caregiving

If your person is caring for someone else—a sick parent, a struggling child, a partner in crisis—offer to give them a break. Watch the kids for an afternoon. Take the dog. Sit with the person they're caring for so they can sleep, or shower, or just breathe. Caregiver exhaustion is real, and relief, even temporary, is an enormous gift.

Consider gifting a meditation or mindfulness resource

Apps like Headspace or Calm offer guided meditations specifically for grief, anxiety, and stress. A trial membership or gift subscription can be a genuinely useful tool for someone who is struggling to sleep or find moments of peace. It's not a substitute for human connection, but it can help with the 3am hours when no one else is awake. Likewise, you could invite your loved one to go to a yoga or pilates class with you, have a spa day, or just get a quick pedicure together. 

Send a note—a real one

Texts might be great for logistics, but a card or a letter, written by hand, can be something tangible and meaningful to hold on to in difficult times. It doesn't have to say much. Try something like, "I can't imagine what you're going through, but I want to understand, because you're so important to me. I wish I was right there by your side, but please know I'm only a phone call or text away. I will call you this week so we can talk about the best ways I can support you." A handwritten note is a physical object that someone can reread and keep. In a season of loss, those small comforts matter more than you might imagine.

And yes—a meaningful gift or token might feel right, too

A gift is not the most important thing on this list, so I'll keep this part short, but sometimes a carefully chosen object can carry a message that words struggle to hold. A piece that says: I see what you've been through. I believe in your resilience. I know you're going to find your way through this.

If a token feels right, choose something with meaning—something that honors the specific experience of the person you love rather than a generic gesture. Fox & Fable pieces like Phoenix rising or Kintsugi were made with exactly these moments in mind. But whatever you choose, let it be chosen with care—and let it come accompanied by your presence, your time, and your willingness to really show up.

That's what people remember. That's what forges and deepens connections in tough times.