Sample Aftercare Email
Grits & Grief with a Cup of Heartache
This is the 2nd email in the 3-part series, sent about 2 months after the service. It reassures families that the messy middle of grief, the guilt, the fog, the “I thought I’d be doing better by now”, is completely normal.
By reaching out at the two-month mark, you show families you understand grief doesn’t follow a schedule. Your message meets them right where they are, reminding them they’re not falling behind, they’re simply grieving, and they’re not alone.
Feel free to copy and paste as written to use in your outreach!
Grits & Grief with a Cup of Heartache
You know those days when grief feels like your regular order at life’s café?
You don’t even need to ask. The universe just slides it across the counter:
“Here you go, one hot cup of heartache, extra strong.
And would you like some grits and grief with that?”
No one asks for this menu. No one wants to taste-test the bitter brew of loss.
But when life serves it up, you can’t send it back.
You have to figure out how to take small, manageable sips until the flavor changes.
What most people don’t tell you about grief is that it isn’t all darkness.
Sometimes, it’s just quiet… like a half-empty café where your usual crowd doesn’t show up anymore.
You still go out of habit, out of comfort, but you notice the silence more than the sound.
And then one day, a stranger smiles, or an old friend sits down. Or you find a new favorite corner, one with sunlight instead of shadows.
And suddenly, the coffee doesn’t taste quite so strong.
Loneliness after loss can sneak up in small, subtle ways.
It’s not just missing the person you loved, it’s missing the rhythm you shared.
The inside jokes, the mundane moments, even the arguments about what to have for dinner.
It’s the sound of one coffee mug instead of two.
Grief isn’t just an emptiness, it’s a recalibration.
Like when you add too much sugar and suddenly realize it’s not the coffee that’s changed, it’s your taste for it.
So if you’re sipping your cup of heartache right now, no sugar, no cream, just raw ache, take comfort in knowing it won’t always taste this way.
Life has a funny way of refilling your cup with warmth when you least expect it.
Until then, be gentle with yourself.
You’re not broken.
You’re just brewing.
Brought to you by [insert your funeral home info]
Written by On Silver Street
It's time to put after-care follow up on autopilot
Done for you 3-part after care email series
