I recently lost a sister, sister-in-law, and dear friend, Jennifer Danso. I loved her so very much. For over 40 years, she showed me love, kindness, acceptance, and so much joy. She recently lost her courageous battle with cancer, and I will say it plainly… cancer IS A BEAST.
I am angry. I am sad. And at times, I feel a deep sense of rage.
Jennifer leaves behind five siblings, three incredible sons, daughter in laws, grandchildren, a husband, several nieces and nephews, and so many friends whose lives she touched. She was the kind of person everyone wanted to be around because she truly listened. When you were with her, you had her full, undivided attention. She made people feel seen, heard, and valued.
Right now, I am in deep pain, and I know everyone who loved her is feeling that same ache.
This experience has made me want to understand grief more deeply. I want to learn how to show up in a gentler, more meaningful way for others who are grieving.
Because if I’m honest, I experienced what I now understand to be grief illiteracy.
People would say, “I’m sorry for your loss,” and then go on at length about how their own loved ones died, often in painful detail. That wasn’t helpful. Or “be strong,” but grief isn’t about strength. It’s about allowing yourself to feel the depth of the loss, moment by moment, without judgment.
Yet, another individual said to me, “She’s in a much better place.” And my immediate thought was… really? And if that’s true, would you want to go there right now too? That didn’t comfort me.
Others said, “Everything happens for a reason.” That didn’t land either.
At the funeral, someone began quoting Bible scriptures to me, again not what I needed in that moment.
What I needed was simple: a warm hug, a quiet presence, no words. Because sometimes, silence speaks the loudest. It says, “I’m here. You’re not alone.”
So many of these phrases we use are well-intentioned, but they can miss the mark. They often come from a place of discomfort, from not knowing what to say to the person that is grieving.
What I’ve learned and what I’m still learning is this: Grief doesn’t need fixing.
It needs witnessing. And I’ve come to understand that you never move on from the deceased because you can’t “move on” from love because love is the one thing that doesn’t die.
Maybe the starting point, if we want to offer something more meaningful than words, is this: “Tell me about the person you lost.” Or simply sitting beside someone in their pain, allowing them to share if and when they’re ready.
My youngest son would often ask me, “Mom, how are you feeling?”
And then gently follow with, “What do you need in this moment?”
That was helpful.
A friend who showed up with a long hug and a beautiful plant, that was helpful.
Another who brought food, that was helpful. Others who sent “thinking of you” messages and simple heart emojis, that was helpful.
What I’m learning on this grief journey is that everyone needs something different. So maybe we start here: a hug and or a simple question, “What do you need right now?”
For me personally, the greatest comfort I found throughout this entire process was simply walking up to those who came to pay their respects and asking, “How did you know my sister-in-law?
What followed were the most beautiful stories—memories that warmed my heart in ways I can’t quite put into words. Now, I don’t just carry my own memories of her, I carry a pocket full of others too.
