Things That Helped Me During the First Week of Loss

The first week after someone dies is a blur. You’re running on adrenaline, bad coffee, and whatever casserole someone dropped off that you can’t remember eating. People are calling. Decisions need to be made. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, you’re supposed to be grieving.

I’ve been a licensed funeral director for 15 years. I’ve walked hundreds of families through the worst week of their lives. But when loss hit close to home, I realized something: most of the advice out there is either too clinical or too vague to actually help when you’re in the thick of it.

So here’s what actually helped me — and what I’ve seen help the families I’ve worked with — during that brutal first week. None of it is complicated. All of it matters more than you think.

Get Outside Within 10 Minutes of Waking Up

I know. Getting out of bed feels impossible. But here’s the thing — your body doesn’t know the difference between grief exhaustion and regular exhaustion. It just knows it’s not getting what it needs.

Getting 10 minutes of natural sunlight within the first hour of waking up (ideally the first 10 to 15 minutes) helps reset your circadian rhythm. That’s the internal clock that tells your body when to be awake and when to sleep. Grief absolutely destroys your sleep, and this is one of the simplest things you can do to fight back.

You don’t have to go for a walk. You don’t have to “get fresh air and clear your head” or whatever well-meaning nonsense someone told you. Just step outside. Stand on the porch. Sit on the front step with your terrible coffee. Let the light hit your face. That’s it.

Even on cloudy days, outdoor light is significantly more powerful than indoor light. Your body registers the difference even when you can’t feel it. It won’t fix your grief. Nothing will fix your grief right now. But it will help your body hold together while you move through it.

Drink Water Like It’s Your Job (And Add Electrolytes)

Grief is physically exhausting. Crying dehydrates you. Stress hormones flood your system. You forget to eat, forget to drink, forget that your body still has basic needs even though the world just fell apart.

Here’s the truth: most people are already dehydrated on a normal day. During grief, it’s so much worse. Dehydration makes the brain fog heavier, the headaches sharper, and the fatigue deeper. You can’t think clearly when you’re running on empty — and you’re already being asked to make some of the biggest decisions of your life.

How much water do you actually need?

A solid starting point is to take your body weight in pounds, divide it in half, and drink that many ounces of water per day. Here’s a quick reference:

If you’re crying a lot (and you probably are), add an extra glass or two.

Now, about electrolytes. Water alone isn’t always enough, especially when your body is under stress. Electrolytes — sodium, potassium, magnesium — help your body actually absorb the water you’re drinking. Without them, you can drink all day and still feel terrible.

You don’t need anything fancy. Here are a few options:

• A pinch of sea salt and a squeeze of lemon in your water
• Electrolyte packets like LMNT, Liquid IV, or Nuun tablets
• Coconut water (nature’s electrolyte drink)
• Bone broth (also counts toward hydration and gets some nutrients in you when eating feels impossible)

A simple first-week tracking approach: Don’t overcomplicate this. Get a water bottle you can see through and know the size of. Fill it up when you wake up, aim to finish it by lunch, and fill it again. If you finish two full bottles a day, you’re probably close to where you need to be. Put a rubber band around the bottle each time you refill it if you’re too foggy to keep count. On the worst days, even one full bottle is better than nothing.

This isn’t about perfection. It’s about giving your body the bare minimum it needs to get through what you’re going through.

When People Ask “What Do You Need?” — Be Honest About What Actually Helps

People are going to ask what they can do. They genuinely want to help. And the flowers will start arriving.

Here’s what I wish someone had told me: you probably don’t need flowers. They show up, they’re beautiful for three days, and then they start dying on your kitchen counter — which, when you’re grieving, feels like a metaphor you absolutely did not ask for.

What you do need is practical support. Meals you don’t have to cook. Help with unexpected costs — because funeral expenses, travel, and time off work add up fast and bills don’t stop because someone died. Gift cards for food delivery. Someone to walk the dog. Gas money. Maybe just cash, honestly, because $25 from fifteen people is $375 you didn’t have, and that’s real help.

The hard part is that most of us aren’t used to asking for what we actually need. We say “I’m fine” and accept the flowers because it’s easier than being specific when our brain can barely function.

So here are a few ways to redirect people toward what really helps:

• “We’re handling a lot of unexpected expenses right now. If you want to help, a contribution toward costs means more than anything.”
• “Instead of flowers, what would really help is [meals, groceries, help with the kids, gas money].”
• “Honestly, we could use financial help more than anything right now. Here’s my Venmo/CashApp.”
• Have a trusted friend or family member communicate this for you so you don’t have to say it yourself.

You’re not being rude. You’re being practical during the least practical time of your life. The people who love you will be relieved to do something that actually makes a difference.

A note from Ripple: We’re building something called a Grief Registry — think of it like a wedding registry, but for what you actually need after a loss. Meals, financial contributions, specific errands, services — all in one place you can share with the people who keep asking how they can help. Stay tuned, because this is going to change the way we support each other through loss.

Give Yourself One Job Per Day

Your to-do list after someone dies is horrifying. Death certificates. Funeral arrangements. Insurance calls. Notifying people. Thank-you notes. Paperwork you didn’t know existed. It never ends.

Here’s what helped me survive it: every morning, say this to yourself —

“All I have to do today is take care of [one thing] and take care of myself.”

That’s it. One thing and yourself. Not twelve things. Not the entire list. One thing.

Maybe today it’s “call the funeral home.” Tomorrow it’s “pick up the death certificates.” The next day it’s “eat an actual meal.”

The list will still be there. It’s not going anywhere. But trying to do all of it at once — while your brain is running on grief fog and no sleep — is how people collapse. Or make expensive mistakes. Or agree to things they don’t actually want because they just need someone to stop talking.

One thing. And yourself. That’s a full day. Everything else can wait.

When People Ask About the Memorial, Remember: It’s Not Your Job to Make Them Feel Better

This one is important, so I’m going to be direct.

After someone dies, people in your life — friends, extended family, coworkers, your mom’s neighbor — are going to start asking about the memorial. “When’s the service?” “Are you doing a celebration of life?” “Have you thought about what you want to do?”

Most of them are not asking because they’re trying to pressure you. They’re asking because they don’t know what else to say. Asking about logistics feels safer than sitting in the discomfort of your pain. It gives them something to do, something to focus on, something concrete in a situation that feels completely out of control.

But here’s what you need to hear: it is not your responsibility to manage their feelings right now.

You do not owe anyone a timeline for a service. You do not have to plan a memorial before you’ve had a chance to breathe. You do not need to make decisions about honoring someone’s life while you’re still in shock that they’re gone.

If you’re not ready, here are some things you can say:

• “We’re not there yet. I’ll let you know when we have plans.”
• “We’re taking some time before we make any decisions.”
• “I appreciate you asking. Right now I just need space.”

And if you never want a traditional memorial? That’s fine too. There are no rules. There is no “right” way to do this. The only person whose needs matter right now are yours.

Anyone who pushes you on this is dealing with their own grief and their own discomfort. That’s valid — but it’s not yours to carry. Not this week.

The First Week Is About Surviving, Not Thriving

None of this advice is going to make grief easier. Nothing will. But these are the small, unglamorous, practical things that kept me from falling apart — and that I’ve watched help hundreds of families stay standing during the hardest week of their lives.

Sunlight. Water. Honest asks for help. One task at a time. Boundaries with people who mean well but don’t know what to say.

That’s enough. You’re enough. And you don’t have to figure any of this out alone.

Going through loss right now? Join the Ripple community — it’s free for the first 90 days. Get honest guidance, real support, and a space where no one is going to tell you they’re “in a better place.”