The Hollow “How Are You?”

In a world where we ask everyone we see, “How are you?” I often wonder why we do this. So often, it is said without meaning — without truly caring about the answer.

We have this façade of pretending to care, pretending that we notice things, encouraging events like “Are You OK Day?” While society rightly focuses more on mental health, in our everyday lives, those who genuinely show up and consistently care are far fewer than we might hope.

At one stage, I thought this was just me — just my social and professional network. But through connecting with other grieving mums, I’ve realised this is the norm. Support often comes with a timeline. People show up for a short while, and when you reach out, many quickly retract.

Grief is ugly. We want to talk about our child who is no longer here, to remember their stories, to share our trauma. There is disbelief — even shame — but speaking about our pain might help us process it, it is an essential part of living in this new reality.

Grief talk is painful and messy. Usually for the recipient. For the mum, it is just life — something we have grown accustomed to.

So, when I see posts asking, “Are you ok?” from people who never actually asked me, or asked but didn’t want the answer, I can’t help but think: what a mockery. A joke. Standing on their soapboxes, proclaiming they care.

I implore people to consider the words they so casually drop: perhaps replace “How are you?” with something different — “Nice to see you today,” or “Welcome to our shop.” Grieving mums don’t need that question. The last thing we want is to evaluate how we are. The honest answer is often: we’re shattered. Every day is a reliving of unbearable loss.

Very few ever stop to really listen, to sit with us in the pain. They just want a quick answer, satisfied they asked the question. If you truly want to connect, don’t ask. Stand beside us. Notice us. Say anything else — anything that shows you see us, not just a social obligation.