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At some point, every adviser morphs into a grief counselor. As shaken clients open up about their struggles, their financial planner must set aside facts and figures — and forge an emotional bond.
Many advisers dread such conversations. But Mitchell Kraus is ready for them.
A certified financial planner in Santa Monica, Calif., Kraus can empathize with individuals consumed by unfathomable sorrow. In 2012, his newborn son died a few days after the delivery.
“The week before, everything was great,” Kraus recalled. “It was a good pregnancy.”
Kraus and his wife, who also have a 9-year-old son, attend support group meetings to cope with the loss. But he acknowledges that such a tragedy “definitely changes you.”
After reading an article on modern advances in life expectancy, Kraus reflected on the reduction in infant mortality — and what it must have been like for parents who dealt with such a devastating blow on a more frequent basis.
“In my grandparents’ generation, many families lost a child,” he said. “It was more normal back then. I can’t imagine how so many families went through it.”
Kraus, 47, traces his evolution as an adviser in the last five and a half years. He used to apply rational analysis to every problem in an attempt to identify the best solution.
“As a typical male, if there was a problem, I wanted to solve it,” he said. “But this process has taught me you cannot solve grief. And you have to understand that everybody grieves in different ways.”
At a financial planning conference in 2014, Kraus attended a one-hour session led by Amy Florian, a bereavement consultant based in Hoffman Estates, Ill. Her presentation resonated with him, and he still keeps her handouts within easy reach in his desk.
Florian, who became a widow at age 25 when her husband died in a car accident, focused on how an adviser could counsel clients during the toughest times in their lives. Kraus listened raptly.
She urged advisers not to hand a box of tissues to a teary client, warning that it sends the wrong message.
“It takes away a client’s power,” Kraus said. It’s better to let people cry freely.
Florian noted that support groups may refer to facial tissues as a “shut-up box” because it subtly conveys that you’re uncomfortable with someone’s open display of grief. When people cry, it can actually relieve their stress.
Kraus also learned how to respond to a distraught client. Rather than say, “I know how you feel” or “You’ll be fine,” it’s better to ask a question such as, “Would you like to tell me more?”
After his son’s passing, Kraus noticed that many people didn’t know what to say. Despite their good intentions, they made matters worse.
“I can’t tell you the number of friends and family who said stupid things,” he said. “And some didn’t say anything at all.”
Vowing not to make the same mistake, Kraus reaches out to grieving clients to show that he’s thinking of them. For example, he tracks the anniversary of the death of a client’s parent — and he will call or send a note on that day.
His message: I know this is a hard day for you. I don’t know what you’re going through because everybody is different. But just know you have my support.
“Clients usually thank me for remembering,” he said. “I find it creates a much better relationship with them.”
Kraus knows that imposing a solution will fall flat if an anguished client isn’t ready to follow through. Instead, an adviser must listen with empathy, resist judging and offer appropriate support every step of the way.
“It’s your job as an adviser to move the client from where they can get to, to where they should get to,” he said. “It’s the difference between the best solution and the best solution they’re capable of making in the moment. I tell grieving clients, ‘We’ll start at this point. I’ll do my best to meet you where you are.’”