
12 Dark Humored (but thoughtful) Things to Write in a Sympathy Card For Someone Who Lost a Loved One
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If this butterfly doesn’t match your personality, then please don’t send it to someone you love who is sad.
Sympathy cards can seem so impersonal. In an effort not to further hurt, insult, or trigger someone who has experienced a tragedy, we tend to subdue our normal personalities in the cards we send, text messages we write, and words we say. But we’re here to tell you that, while it may seem counterintuitive, be yourself! It helps our friends and loved ones to know that our sentiments when times are tough are genuine. And watering them down in cliches and careful language can hide our real intention to convey empathy and support.
Here are some ideas for when you want to strike that perfect balance between emotional honesty and a little crooked smile. These are best suited for folks who you are confident understand your dry, sarcastic, or gallows sense of humor:
Sending love, snacks, and absolutely no unsolicited advice. Death already brought enough uninvited drama.
Grief is like glitter. It shows up everywhere, sticks to everything, and never fully goes away. But it does get less sparkly over time.
They didn’t deserve to go, and you don’t deserve to feel this broken. Let’s agree that death can go step on a Lego.
If I had a spell to bring them back, I’d use it. But all I’ve got is tea, time, and an unhinged willingness to curse the universe with you.
Heaven gained an angel, which is cool, but Earth lost a solid human, and frankly that sucks.
Grief is a weird party guest—shows up uninvited, drinks all your energy, and never knows when to leave. Let me know if you need help kicking it out.
This sucks and it’s unfair. I’m sorry you’re going through this—but I’ll stand in the shadows with you ‘til the light comes back.
I wont tell you “they’re in a better place,” but I will tell you I’m here with snacks and silence.
The only silver lining here is that no one can stop us from drinking wine in their honor at 2 PM. I’ll bring the glasses.
I won’t tell you to be strong. You’re allowed to be soft, angry, numb, weird, or all of the above. I’ll be here for all of it.
If grief were a boss level, you’d be facing it weaponless in the rain. But I’m player two. Let’s rage-quit together if needed.
You don’t have to find the silver lining. Sometimes it’s enough just to not set the sky on fire. Proud of you for getting through this hour.