Can we talk about Friend Grief ?

The loss of a friend is a very particular kind of grief.

It doesn’t have the same ‘status’ or the same recognised rituals or expectations as the loss of a partner or parent or sibling……But it can affect us just as deeply (or sometimes more) than the loss of someone we have an ‘officially defined’ relationship with.

Many employers won’t sanction compassionate leave for the death of a friend. Or even time off for their funeral.

And it can be hard to put into words how devastating the loss of a friend, and the friendship you shared, can be.

So friend grief often ends up being a disenfranchised kind of loss.

Part of the problem is language - I think we need more words for ‘friend’. Because that one word can’t do justice to the wide, nuanced landscape of friendship.

And we use the same word ‘friend’ for everything from a casual acquaintance, right through to the soulmate who you share your weirdest quirks and deepest secrets with!

As a celebrant I’m really aware that funerals can be complicated for friends.

I’m often approached at the end of a funeral by the person’s friends.

Because the family have a defined role as ‘chief mourners’ - But the person’s friends often hover about, unsure of their place, and unrecognised in their grief.

I hate the idea that people beleive there is a ‘hierarchy of grief’ where those with a less defined connection to the person who has died, feel that they don’t have permission to grieve as openly or deeply.

I’ve observed that we have a need to name and acknowledge the connection. To tell someone at a funeral (even if it’s just the celebrant) who the person was to them, how they knew them, and to share their own memories.

In my conversations with friends after funeral ceremonies I’ve realised that ‘friendship’ is a very inadequate way to define what someone’s death means to us.

So…..

“We’re not related, I’m just her friend” can also mean “I was her emergency contact. I went to see her every day during her last illness. I phoned ambulances, I rushed over at 3am when she called me, I picked up her weekly prescriptions, I kept in touch with her children when she was too sick. Now I don’t know what my role is, and I miss her everyday”

or

“Oh, I was just her neighbour’ is actually code for “She has been part of my daily life for 30 years. We took each others parcels in, watered each other’s plants, shared endless dog walks. During lockdown she was my only human interaction for months. I was the one who found her after her fall. I’m still deep in the shock of that”

or

“We went to school together” can mean “For 70 years our lives have been intertwined. He has been present at every important milestone in my life. Our shared history was unique to our friendship. I feel untethered without him in my life.”  

or

“We dated for a while” can be code for: “They knew parts of me that no one else did. They remember a side of me that no one else in the world does. They saw the ‘real’ me.”

or

“He was 3 months younger than me” often means “I’m having an existential crisis. People my age are dropping like flies. Will I be next?

or

“I met her when our kids were at nursery 40 years ago” can signify “We shared the bewildering, exhausting days of early parenthood as we reinvented ourselves as wives and mothers. She has journeyed with me through divorce, bereavement, illness, and our kids leaving home. She is closer than a sister”

or

“We worked together a long time ago – I can’t believe he’s died” is another way of saying “He knew me when I was younger, more vital, when people relied on me. We shared some of the most challenging and fulfilling times of my life. Now he has died, that part of me is gone too.”

So friend grief is huge – and it needs to be acknowledged.

Good friends hold our secrets, our stories, our hopes and our fears…..and when they die, it can feel as though a part of us has died too.

That impulsive/funny/adventurous/nerdy/silly/outrageous aspect of ourselves that we only fully inhabited when we were with that friend……Well, without that relationship, those aspects of ourselves can feel smaller and harder to access. And their death represents not just the loss of that shared history, but also the loss of the future friendship you’d expected to enjoy.

The intimate details of our lives are often known by our friends – we often share things with our friends that we wouldn’t dream of talking to our so-called ‘nearest and dearest’ about.

And yet when we die, it’s almost inevitably a family member who organises the funeral and tells our story through their own lens.

But the reality is that however much we love our families, and however devoted a marriage might be, we can only ever know one facet of the people we are related to because our own bias gets in the way.

 When we’ve only ever known someone as ‘Dad’ or ‘Wife’ or ‘Granny’ we only see some of who they were.

So in my work as a funeral celebrant, I always try to encourage families to include friends in the funeral planning process. I ask if there are close friends I can speak to when I’m writing a ceremony (even if it takes me longer!) because our friends know us in ways that our families sometimes don’t, and I want the funerals I write to reflect each individual in the most multi-faceted way possible.

This might be controversial, but I’d go as far as to say that naming a close friend as ‘next of kin’ on your paperwork can be a really good way to make sure your needs and wishes are fulfilled at the end of your life and ensuring that your story is told in the way you want.

This is an area in which the LGBTQ+ community is leading the way - in bypassing the status quo of prioritising blood ties, and being intentional in choosing 'Next of Kin' who know them as their most authentic selves.

Some of my favourite funerals (let's be honest, every celebrant has favourites!) have been the ones where I have worked with the close friends of queer people to co-create ceremonies that expressed the full humanity of their beloved person.

The love we feel for our friends is real, and intense, and precious. And that’s why it can feel so hard when friend grief isn’t recognised for the profoundly life-changing experience that it is.

Friend grief can be especially strange because there are very few external markers that anything has changed…..day to day life continues almost the same – but there is an empty space where that WhatsApp message, coffee or supportive presence always used to be. And the disconnect between the enormous internal grief and the way nothing has changed externally can feel deeply disorientating.

One of the most painful things about losing a friend is that there are no recognised rituals for framing the loss. And too often things like funeral planning, tending the grave, anniversary traditions, or scattering of ashes doesn’t include friends.

Personally, I have found that creating small occasions or rituals have helped me with naming and processing my own friend grief. For example gathering with other close friends for a picnic in the bluebell woods after our friend died; Celebrating the birthday of another friend by going for a walk and a ‘gin in a tin’ on her favourite beach each year; And recently creating a little home ‘alter’ with candles, photos and meaningful objects to have an intentional space for remembering a friend.

Have you created your own friend grief rituals?

I’d love to know what you have found helpful.

It can be supportive to be in spaces where we can be known in ALL our grieving.

And those species do exist – online and in person. So do seek them out.

Please be gentle with yourself if you are grieving a friend.

It’s real.

It hurts.

It matters.

Please don’t ever feel that “I was just their friend” excludes you from the right to grieve fully and for as long as it takes.

And finally, let’s make sure we tell our friends that we love them and what they mean to us while we still can!

Holding my friend's hand a few days before she died

Notes:

·       If you live in the Tunbridge Wells area, I help to facilitate a monthly Bereavement Support group for people living with any kind of grief. It is part of the Friends Together charity and all are welcome! It’s on the last Friday of each month at the URC Church in Rusthall 12-1.30pm

·       Also, I am hosting a ‘Loss and Remembering Retreat’ for women on Sunday 1^st November. Message me if you’d like to know more!