A friend's father is in hospital. We call to support them — and hear ourselves say "I can't believe this, I've been crying all week, I don't know how you're coping."
We meant it kindly. But now they are comforting us.
Susan Silk and Barry Goldman drew it as rings. The patient sits at the centre. Their child or closest family is the next ring out, then close friends, then the rest of us. Everyone is somewhere on that map.
One rule makes it work. Comfort travels inward: to anyone closer to the pain than we are, we say one thing — "I'm here. What do you need?" Everything else travels outward. Our own fear and grief are real too, and they go to someone standing further out than we are: another friend, a journal, a professional if it is heavy.
Everybody gets a place to fall apart. Just never on someone standing closer to the fire.