Grief is often described as a journey no one wishes to walk, yet one that nearly all of us will face. Along this path, the most profound gift we can offer is not advice, explanations, or solutions; but presence. And presence begins with listening.

In Making Friends, Em Griffin reminds us of something deceptively simple: small talk matters. What he calls phatic communion, those casual “How are you?” greetings or gentle nods of acknowledgment, are not trivial. They are the fragile threads that weave safety and connection. In grief work, these gestures become doorways. They signal, “I see you. I’m available. You are not alone.”

Yet Griffin also acknowledges how difficult true listening can be. We filter what we hear through our own biases. We rush to “fix.” We mistake listening for agreement. But grief companionship requires us to set aside our need to correct or control. It calls us into a holy posture of acceptance, receiving another’s words not as propositions to debate but as windows into their pain.

This kind of listening mirrors the heart of God. Scripture reveals a Lord who inclines His ear toward the cries of His people (Psalm 116:2). The Incarnation itself is divine listening; God stepping into our story, walking among us, and experiencing our human sorrow (Hebrews 4:15). To listen with compassion is to reflect the One who first listened to us.

Language itself is layered with meaning. Griffin highlights how a single word like “humanist” can carry vastly different connotations. In grief, words become even heavier. A widow who says, “I’m fine,” may really mean, “I am holding back tears because I’m afraid you can’t handle them.” A grieving father might speak in metaphors, silence, or even anger. Companionship means resisting the urge to interpret hastily. Instead, it invites us to patiently hear the heart beneath the words.

In grief counseling, listening is not passive, it is profoundly active. It is compassion with ears. It is worship expressed in posture, not performance. It is saying without words: Your pain matters enough for me to stop, to lean in, and to be still with you.

If you are walking with someone in grief, remember this: you do not need perfect words. Begin with small gestures of connection. Offer the ministry of presence. Guard against judgment. And above all, listen, not to fix, but to companion.

Because in the quiet space of attentive listening, the grieving often hear echoes of God’s own promise: “Call to me and I will answer you” (Jeremiah 33:3).

Ze Selassie (Chaplain) Christian Leaders Alliance
MA Candidate, Christian Counseling
Ordained Minister & Grief Companion

My destination is a place that requires a new way of being.
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