When the Casseroles Stop Coming

What I've learned about supporting people through grief at work, at home, and long after the funeral.

As more people find The Mourning Manager™, I receive a lot of messages from readers who aren’t grieving themselves. They’re trying to support someone who is. A friend. A spouse. A colleague. A direct report. A sibling. The question is almost always some version of: What should I do?

I always hesitate before answering. Not because I don’t have thoughts, but because grief is personal. I’m not a therapist or a grief counselor. I’m a daughter who lost her mother two years ago and then read more than 30 books trying to understand what had happened to my family and to me. What I’ve learned is that grief changes. And because grief changes, support has to change too.

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Phase One: The Beginning

When my mother died, people came. Cards. Meals. Flowers. Texts. People who sat with us when there wasn’t much to say. I don’t remember every conversation from those early days. I remember who came. I remember who checked in via postal mail (I love cards!) phone and text. I remember who was willing to step into an uncomfortable moment and simply be present even from afar.

In the beginning, most people aren’t looking for wisdom. They’re looking for steadiness. What this looks like in practice:

Don’t ask what they need. Most grieving people cannot answer that question. Instead, offer something specific.

“I’m bringing dinner Thursday. Does 6 work?”

“I’m handling the grocery run this week. Send me your list.”

“I’m going to sit with you for an hour. You don’t have to talk.”

”Sending you this message or prayer to listen to when you have a quiet moment, no need to respond.”

Specific offers remove the burden of having to ask. That removal is itself an act of care.

For leaders: if someone on your team experiences a loss, do not wait for HR to handle it. Send a personal note within 24 hours. Keep it brief. Make it human. Then follow up a week later when everyone else has gone quiet.

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Phase Two: The Firsts

The first birthday. The first holiday. The first anniversary. Many people know how to support someone in the immediate aftermath of loss. Far fewer know what to do six months later. Or ten months later. Or on a random Tuesday when everyone else has moved on.

This is the season where most support adjusts or fades in the background. Sometimes we assume the grieving person is okay because they appear to be functioning. Functioning is not the same as healed.

What this looks like in practice:

Put the significant dates in your calendar. The birthday of the person who passed. The anniversary of the loss. Mother’s Day if they lost their mother. Father’s Day if they lost their father.

On those days, send a message. It does not have to be long.

“Thinking of you today.”

“I know today might be heavy. I’m here if you need anything.”

“Remembering her with you.”

You do not need to fix anything. You just need to show that you remembered.

For leaders: note these dates for your team members too. A quiet check-in from a manager on the first anniversary of a loss is something people remember for years. It costs you three minutes. It communicates that they are seen as a whole person, not just a role.

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Phase Three: The Long Arc

More than two years later, I am still navigating things connected to my mother’s passing. Not the funeral. Not the immediate shock. The ripple effects.

My father continues to build a life that looks different than the one he expected. My son, who spent much of the first year and a half after my mother’s death living with my father, is now settled into a new place and his next chapter. Our family continues to adjust. That’s what people often miss.

Grief doesn’t only change what happened. It changes what keeps happening.

What this looks like in practice:

Check in without a reason. No anniversary. No holiday. Just a message that says you’re thinking of them. Stop asking “are you okay?” and start asking better questions.

“What’s been hardest this week?”

“Is there anything weighing on you that people aren’t asking about?”

“How’s your dad doing?” or “How’s your family adjusting?”

These questions communicate that you understand grief has layers. That you’re not looking for a quick reassurance. That you can handle an honest answer.

For leaders: long-arc grief affects performance, focus, and capacity in ways that don’t always look like grief. If a high performer starts missing details, withdrawing from collaboration, or seems less present than usual, consider the question before you open a performance conversation. Sometimes what looks like disengagement is someone quietly carrying more than their job description accounts for.

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One Final Thought

If someone you care about is grieving, don’t exhaust yourself searching for the perfect words. Why? Because grief changes over time.

Support should too. Let us know if any of these tips are helpful or what tips you may want to share with the TMM community in the comments or reply to this email.

Until next time friends,
🖤Carolyn’s daughter