I’ve thought a lot about what it really means to be there for someone. When someone wins the lottery, you can bet their phone is ringing off the hook with congratulatory calls—they probably don’t need another call at that moment. Even when they hit a big milestone in their business, sometimes the calls come from people angling for a benefit rather than celebrating the success. I even remember times out in the Hamptons when one of my friends was spending far too much time with someone I found utterly distasteful. I suggested we mingle and speak to others, only to hear conversations fixated on that person’s money or royal title. My response, which probably won’t surprise anyone who knows me, was, “Who cares? He is a dick.” So much for that fair weather attitude—or as I sometimes call it, “sucking up.”

But here’s the real point: when a friend is in a dark place—maybe they’ve lost their job, are battling an illness, or have suffered the loss of someone dear—their phone might be silent. That’s when we truly have a chance to show who we are. I aspire to be a foul weather friend—the kind who steps up when the storm hits hardest. Far too often, people shy away in those moments because they worry about not knowing what to say, or fear that a misstep in words might make things worse. But not knowing what to say just means you haven’t yet learned the art of listening. Being present isn’t about filling the silence with words; it’s about offering your full attention, genuine care, and empathy.

For me, listening means asking thoughtful questions and then quieting my own voice to truly hear what the other person is saying. It’s not about having the perfect response—it’s about showing up silently, lovingly, and without judgment. Often, simply sitting with someone in their pain speaks louder than any words ever could.

PS: I just did a little Google search on this topic and found some twisted ideas out there—some say that people who thrive on misery are jealous of success or only reach out when they need help. I’m not talking about any of that. I spent an hour reflecting on my life to analyze who my friends are and the circumstances they face. I genuinely love when my friends succeed. I also recognize that I’m most “needed when I am needed.” I have one barometer: I choose my friends based on who I emotionally connect with—I don’t count their money.

Let’s strive to be there for one another in our toughest times, Sometimes, the most important thing we can do is simply be present and listen.