Writing·eight minutes, or skip to the situation you are in
A death, an illness, an apology, two years of silence, a person you barely know. The cards nobody wants to have to write, with wording you are welcome to take and change. The examples are short on purpose — short is almost always better than eloquent.
Say died, not passed. Say the diagnosis, not your situation. Euphemism reads as discomfort, and the person already knows what happened.
One real detail — a habit, a phrase they used, a Tuesday you remember — is worth more than every sympathetic generality in the language.
No questions, no “let me know”. A card that needs answering is one more task for someone who has none spare.
Week six is lonelier than week one. If you have missed the moment, send it anyway and say so plainly rather than not sending.
Sympathy is the card people rewrite most and send least. Aim for four sentences and send it today.
I heard about your dad and I am so sorry. I keep thinking about him standing at the barbecue refusing all help. I am not going to ask how you are — I just wanted you to know I am thinking of you this week and next.
For a friend, when you knew the person.
There is nothing I can say that makes this better, so I will just say I love you and I am close by. No need to write back. I will call on Sunday and you can pick up or not.
When you are very close and words feel useless.
I did not know your mother, but I know what she made. Everything steady about you came from somewhere, and I suspect it came from her. I am so sorry she is gone.
When you never met the person who died.
Six weeks on, and I imagine the cards have stopped arriving. Ours has not — we are still thinking about her, and about you. Nothing is expected of you here.
The late card, which is often the one that lands hardest.
Avoid battle language and avoid optimism they have not asked for. Offer something concrete or offer nothing.
I heard, and I am not going to pretend to know what any of it feels like. I am dropping food round on Thursday and leaving it on the step — no door-answering required. Thinking of you constantly.
Concrete help, with the social obligation removed.
No advice, no articles, no stories about someone’s aunt. Just this: I am here for the boring bits. Lifts, forms, sitting in waiting rooms. Ask me for the dull things.
For someone drowning in well-meant suggestions.
Sending you a picture of the four of us at the lake, because it made me laugh and I thought it might do the same for you. Nothing else to report. More soon.
A card that is deliberately not about the illness.
Name what you did, do not explain why, and make no request. The word “but” undoes an entire apology.
What I said at dinner was unkind and I knew it as it was coming out of my mouth. I am not going to explain myself. I am sorry, and I would like to do better than that.
Short, unqualified, no defence attached.
I have been the one who kept score, and it cost us three years. That was mine, not yours. Whatever you want to do with this card is entirely fine by me.
A long-standing rift, with no obligation to respond.
I missed the day that mattered and then I let being embarrassed keep me quiet, which made it worse. I am sorry. Here is a photo from the last one, for what it is worth.
For the apology that is really about avoidance.
Do not audit the gap. Acknowledge it in one line, then talk about now.
Two years, and I have no good reason for it. I found this photo of us and thought: enough of that. Tell me nothing or tell me everything, either is welcome.
A friend you drifted from, no fault involved.
You have every right to leave this unanswered. I wanted you to have these pictures regardless — they are yours as much as mine, and I did not want to be the reason you never saw them.
An estrangement, where the photos are the point and not the pretext.
A colleague, a neighbour, your partner’s parent. Claim less closeness than you might like to, and it will read as sincere.
We do not know each other well, so I will keep this brief: I am sorry about your brother, and I hope the next few weeks are gentler than these ones.
Honest about the distance, which is why it works.
From all of us on the third floor — we have been thinking about you, and the desk is not the same without the radio on. Take whatever time you need.
A card from a group, with one specific detail in it.
Take no side and pass no verdict — not even a favourable one. You do not know what it was like inside it.
I am not going to say anything about whether this is for the best, because that is not mine to know. I am around, the kettle works, and you are welcome any evening without warning.
Support with no judgement attached.
Sending photos of the kids from the weekend. That is all this is — no subtext, no message underneath. I thought you would want them and there is no reason you should not have them.
Co-parenting, where the card has to be exactly what it says.
Do not call it an opportunity. Do not send job listings. Say the thing about them that the job did not create.
Eleven years and a security pass in a box. I am angry on your behalf and I am not going to tell you it happened for a reason. You were good at that job. Drink on Friday?
Anger on their behalf, which is often what is wanted.
Nothing useful to offer except this: you were the person everyone went to, and that was you rather than the title. It travels with you. Here if you want to talk shop or not talk at all.
For a colleague, without turning into a reference letter.
All of these get written thousands of times a day. None of them are crimes — they just tend to close a conversation rather than open one.
“Everything happens for a reason.”
Asks them to find meaning in it today, on your schedule.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
Hands them the work. Name one thing you will do instead.
“I know exactly how you feel.”
Turns their card into yours. “I cannot imagine” is truer.
“At least it was quick.”
Any sentence starting “at least” is an argument against their grief.
“Stay strong.”
A performance request. They are allowed to be a mess.
“Sorry for your loss.”
Not wrong, just unread. Name the person and it becomes a sentence.
Usually yes, and fewer than you think. A photo does something no wording can: it proves you were there, and it hands over something they may not have a copy of.
For a death, one or two of the person, chosen for what they show rather than how they look. Upload them at the best quality you have — what comes down at the other end is the file you sent, not a screen-sized copy of it, so a family that wants a print for the service is not left with a thumbnail. For an apology or a silence, a photo of the two of you does the arguing for you.
One exception worth naming: for a serious illness, ask before sending anything from before the diagnosis. Some people want it very much, and some do not.
A recorded voice message is free on every card, and on the difficult ones it carries what typing cannot. Twenty seconds is plenty.
Name the death plainly, say the person’s name, and give one specific detail about them — a habit, a phrase they used. Then offer one concrete thing with the pressure taken off: I will call on Sunday, you can pick up or not. Four sentences is usually the whole card.
Name the thing you did rather than the category it belongs to, do not explain why, and ask for nothing back. “I am sorry if you felt” apologises for their reaction instead of your act, and the word but undoes an entire apology.
Be brief, and be honest about the size of the relationship — small and true beats big and false. Say plainly that you do not know each other well, then offer one thing you can do without them having to accept it: covering a shift, food left on a step, the thing at work handled.
A card suits estrangement better than a call, because it can be received without being answered. Make no claims about the history, ask for nothing and say so, and leave the door unlatched rather than open. Write it, sleep on it, and send it without expecting a reply.
Four sentences is usually right. The instinct that a hard card has to be long is backwards — length is normally the sound of someone circling the thing they are trying to say.
Take any wording above and change it until it sounds like you. Sending is free, and if the words will not come, a recorded voice message is free too.
Read next
Wording for the easier occasions — birthdays, thank yous, congratulations.
Worth knowing before you send a card that matters: what lands, what they tap, and what they can keep.
For sympathy especially, a card on paper is often the right form. We print it and post it.