Grief Literacy: Making Room for All the Things We Lose

When we hear the word grief, most of us think of death: the loss of a parent, a partner, a child, a friend. That grief is real and profound, and it deserves our care. Yet in my counselling work, I meet grief in many other forms, and people often don’t recognise it as grief at all.

The many faces of grief

We grieve the pet who was part of the family for fourteen years and who greeted us at the door every day. We grieve the end of a relationship through separation or divorce, and with it the future we had imagined. We grieve a diagnosis, and the body or the life we had before it. We grieve the loss of function or capacity, the things we could once do with little effort. We grieve the loss of independence, control, security, status, or a role that told us who we were.

These losses come up repeatedly in the counselling room. Often people arrive believing something is wrong with them: “I should be over this by now,” “It’s only a dog,” “Other people have it so much worse,” “I chose to leave, so what right do I have to be sad?”

Nothing is wrong. They are grieving, because they have lost something of meaning for them and no one has told them that this is allowed.

Grief is not a problem to be solved

We live in a culture that loves a fix, the quicker the better. We want grief to be tidy, time-limited and not so loud or heartbreaking that it makes us as the observer too uncomfortable.

Often, people don’t know how to react to someone who bursts into tears or who is grieving. For me this has been most noticeable in workplaces, where people will avoid someone returning to work after a loss because it makes them feel awkward or might require them to get caught in a conversation they don’t want to have. We might revert to making well-meaning comments like “at least she had a good life,” “everything happens for a reason,” or “time heals all wounds.” Underneath those sentiments is a quiet hope that the discomfort will pass, for the griever and for us. Yet the griever might have interpreted that comment as – you just dismissed my pain, you don’t understand that my life has been changed forever, you have no idea how much I’m hurting, or you are no longer someone with whom I trust to share my vulnerability.

How other people respond to our grief certainly reveals much about them.

Grief is not a malfunction. It is the natural, human response to losing something that mattered. It is a sign that we loved, that we had a bond, that something held meaning for us. Grief cannot be fixed, because grief is change; and change in life is unavoidable.

Grief is meaningful. And it is yours to experience, in your own way and in your own time.

The myth of a life without loss

Much of our society is organised around youth, success, productivity and things going well. Social media shows us the highlights. We are encouraged to stay positive, keep busy and bounce back. Without anyone intending it, this leaves little room for the other half of the human experience.

Loss is not an exception to life. It is part of it. Every one of us will lose people, health, abilities, certainties and roles. We will age. We will have to face challenges and change we didn’t choose. This is normal, inevitable and unavoidable, and no amount of success or planning will exempt us.

When we deny this, we don’t prevent grief. We only make it lonelier. People who are grieving may find themselves feeling ashamed, isolated and out of step with a world that seems to have no place for what they’re going through.

What is grief literacy?

Grief literacy is simply the understanding that grief is a normal and expected part of life, and the willingness to act on that understanding. It means:

• Recognising grief in all its forms, not only bereavement after a death

• Understanding that grief has no timeline and that grief is different for all of us.

• Resisting the urge to fix, hurry or silver-line another person’s pain

• Making room for others’ loss in our conversations, workplaces, schools and communities

• Allowing ourselves our own grief without apology or comparison

A grief-literate person can sit with someone who is hurting and say, “That sounds awful. I’m so sorry and I’m here.” They don’t need any other special words, only a willingness to stay present.  

Compassion with a long view

Here is what I find most hopeful. Because we will all experience grief, we have every reason to be kind to one another. Someone else’s loss today is a preview of what will, in some form, visit each of us. Our turn will most definitely come.

When we respond to another person’s grief with warmth and patience, we are building the community we will one day need ourselves. This is the heart of compassionate communities: neighbours, colleagues, friends and services who understand that loss is part of life and who are ready to help when needed.

We can’t prevent loss but we can change what it’s like to ‘land’ for someone experiencing it.

A softer landing looks like a workplace that understands why someone is struggling after a separation. It looks like a friend who asks about the pet who died and doesn’t mind the long answer. It is an understanding that losing independence is a genuine bereavement, not just an inconvenience to manage. It looks like giving ourselves permission to grieve knowing that this pain is intense right now and this makes perfect sense.

If you are carrying any form of loss right now, your grief is valid. And if someone close to you is grieving, you don’t need to fix anything. You just need to be willing to stay present.

If grief is weighing you down and you’d like some company with it, you are welcome to get in touch via the Ground Zero Counselling website or email kategroundzero@gmail.com