August Founder’s Corner: Grief: The Gift of Remembering Yourself

This month, I find myself reflecting on grief as I mark the birthday of my late father. Grief, for me, is more than just the absence of a loved one; it’s a return to the Self. It’s a moment when everything is stripped away, when the clutter of everyday life and the demands of the world fall silent, and what remains are the most essential parts. The distractions we’ve accumulated become unnecessary and we are forced to face ourselves in the rawest sense. Grief, in its sharpest form, pulls us into a state of acute focus, offering us a glimpse of who we are beneath it all.

It is in this space that I believe grief becomes something much larger. What is left is not just the memories of a loved one but also the truth of who we are in their absence, the way our hearts ache, the intensity of our missing, the quiet and sometimes jarring way our minds process the loss. It is a truth we may not often see, buried under layers of protection, perfection, and avoidance. But grief has a way of forcing us to reckon with it.

I remember a client I once worked with, a young woman who had lost her one-year-old baby. I had asked her, almost instinctively, “Who did you lose?” It was the first session, and all I had to go on were my instincts, with no prior referral information to guide me. Her response came quickly, her words heavy with sorrow: “My daughter. She died 57 days ago.” I’ll never forget the way her grief filled the room, how it seemed to seep into the very walls of that small office. She was a young mother, still carrying the weight of her own tender years, and her pain was raw, as if she were experiencing the loss in real time, even as she spoke. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I wake up every morning in terror, haunted by the fact that she’s gone. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t protect her. I failed her.”

Twenty years later, that story still presses on my chest, like all the stories of grief I’ve carried as a psychologist. What I notice is the strange perfection that can arise in this place of loss; the way grief ties us to our memories, as though recollections are like ornaments on a mantel, untouched, perfect, and yet, unmoving. These memories, frozen in time, are often what we hold on to in the wake of loss. They are beautiful, yes, but also haunting in their stillness. Sometimes the moments they represent are locked in place, unable to change, unable to evolve. It’s as if they are sitting on the shelf of our hearts, perfectly preserved, but static and permanent.

One of the most isolating aspects of grief is its inherent loneliness. When we grieve, we often feel as though we are in a world of our own, one that no one can truly enter. Others can try to empathize, to understand, but they cannot fully feel what we feel. It’s a unique experience, one that creates a barrier between us and the world. In some ways, we build walls, high and impenetrable, because the forcefield of grief is too much for others to navigate. Other times we protect ourselves from the intensity of the pain because seeing the faces of others or hearing their words can be just has triggering as the loss itself.

At the same time, grief can also feel like a ghost. There are those of us who shelf everything, burying the pain so deep that it wanders around like a restless spirit, barely noticed, but frightening when it appears. It doesn’t disappear; it just hides, waiting for the right moment to surface, often when we least expect it. Grief is like that…unpredictable and elusive, constantly moving in the background of our lives.

When Resilience Fails: The Fear of Letting Go

Grief, while painful, is also a testament to the depth of our love and connection. Resilience is often lauded as the ability to bounce back, to move through grief and emerge stronger on the other side. But what happens when resilience feels like it’s failing? When we can’t move forward, not because we’re stuck, but because moving forward feels like a betrayal of our responsibility to the person we’ve lost? The idea of letting go feels too final, too absolute. If we stop feeling the ache, we fear that we will stop feeling the person, too…that in accepting the loss, we may lose the essence of what they were in our lives.

This fear is understandable. When we’re in the depths of grief, it can feel like the only thing that keeps us connected to our loved ones is the pain itself. In a strange way, the ache feels safer than the silence, the absence, because at least in grief we are feeing something rather than numb. But what if that tether is also what keeps us stuck in a loop, unable to move forward?

For some, the process of grief moves into something more complicated, something that resists time and healing. Complex grief, also known as prolonged grief disorder, is when the pain of loss becomes persistent and debilitating, not evolving with time but instead, intensifying. The signs of complex grief include:

• Intrusive thoughts or memories that seem impossible to escape.
• Avoidance of reminders of the deceased or the situation surrounding the loss.
• Persistent feelings of disbelief or shock that do not lessen over time.
• Intense yearning or longing that never fades.
• Numbing or detachment, where the person feels disconnected from the world around them.

After many years of my own process as well as being a sounding board for so many others, I’ve learned a few things I will outline below.

One insight I have is that the body can be a huge part of the healing process, as well as contribute to the difficulty of moving forward. As Dr. Peter Levine notes in Waking the Tiger, trauma, including grief, is stored in the body. The shock of loss can leave us feeling “stuck” in our nervous system, where the body continues to process the pain long after the emotional intensity has subsided. This body-centered trauma can prevent us from moving through the grief process and healing, keeping us in a cycle of emotional numbness, anxiety, or hyperarousal.

A second insight I’ve come to is that part of the healing process involves recognizing the person we have lost had their own journey, one that was not about us. This might be one of the hardest truths to accept, but it can also be one of the most freeing. When we let go of the need to feel responsible for their life or death (particularly when it comes to complex grief), we can create space for their journey to exist without us. This doesn’t mean we stop loving them, but it does mean that we recognize they were on their own path, independent of us.

And thirdly, despite the deeply challenging aspects of grief, I find this experience can be more than trying to stay connected to our memories of our loved ones. Instead, it can about remembering the Self that existed with that person, the parts of us that came alive in their presence, the ways we changed, the ways we grew, and the ways we became. Death can be an incredible opening for feeling a vibration, or spark of aliveness. I know that feels contrary when we feel an on slot of difficult emotions. However, it is in fragile points such as loss that we can be the most connected to our spiritual nature. In this process, we can engage with the quality of surrendering. This is not a giving up. Or a checking out. It’s not even holding up a white flag. When it comes to grief, surrendering to our sadness and letting it go is a movement toward acceptance with loss.

This is the complexity of grief. It makes us confront not only the person we’ve lost but also the parts of ourselves that we may have lost along the way, and the person we become once our loved one is gone.

How Loved Ones Can Support Someone Facing Complex Grief

Additionally challenging is what to do or say when someone you care about is struggling. When someone we love is navigating complex grief, it can feel like there’s nothing we can do to fix it, and that’s true. Grief, especially when it lingers in the form of complex grief, cannot be “fixed” with kind words or quick solutions. It’s important to acknowledge that grief is deeply personal…an ongoing journey. The best support we can offer isn’t through fixing or solving. Rather, it’s through simply being present. Here are some key ways I have found to be helpful:

• • Be Present, Without the Pressure to Fix.
    I can remember the afternoon my grandma, Alice, was navigating the memorial service for her late husband, Ernest. They’d been together some 50 years. At one point in the day, I found her sitting alone, alongside the table of appetizers. She looked lost within the faint smile she painted on her cheeks, and I sat down next to her. Over the next two hours, we sat in companionable silence as people walked up to offer condolences. Many years later, just before her own passing, she reminded me of that day, and how grateful she was that I just sat with her, no words to say. Sometimes the most healing thing you can do is hold space without judgment.

• • Acknowledge the Awkwardness and the Silence.
    Grief often creates an awkwardness for both the grieving person and those around them. If you don’t know the “right” words to say, you’re not alone. Simply acknowledging the difficulty can be a bridge. Saying something like, “I don’t always know what to say, but I want you to know I’m here for you,” can help reduce the pressure. Often, people in complex grief may feel isolated not just because of their loss, but because others avoid them due to discomfort. Acknowledging the awkwardness and showing you’re okay with the silence can be more helpful than trying to fill it with words.

• • Avoid Avoidance—Don’t Let Them Face Grief Alone. While it’s natural to feel unsure of how to help, the worst thing you can do is avoid the grieving person altogether. Avoidance can deepen feelings of isolation and make someone in complex grief feel as though their pain is too much for others to bear. Even if you don’t know exactly what to say, your presence can make a profound difference. Reach out with a simple message or invitation: “I’ve been thinking about you and just wanted to check in. No need for a big conversation unless you’re ready.”

• • Encourage, But Don’t Push, Healing Practices. If the grieving person expresses interest in healing practices like therapy, yoga, or journaling, encourage them gently without pressuring them. Complex grief can often make it difficult to engage in self-care or healing activities, so it’s important to offer these suggestions as an option, not a requirement. Respect their pace, and check in periodically with kindness and empathy, rather than forcing them to move forward when they’re not ready.

• • Be Patient with Their Emotional Waves. Grief doesn’t have a set timeline, and complex grief may involve emotional waves that can feel unpredictable. One moment, your loved one may appear “fine” or distracted, and in the next, they may be overwhelmed by emotion. This is normal. Be patient with their emotional shifts, and reassure them that it’s okay to feel however they feel in any given moment. Avoid trying to calm them down or push them toward “getting better” quickly. Grief needs time to be felt.

Grief, in all its forms, is a pathway to reconnecting with the authentic self. It strips away the layers we have built and invites us to walk with our vulnerability, our pain, and our deepest truths. The journey is one of both pain and transformation, but it is also a journey of return…to ourselves, to our loved ones, and ultimately, to the softness that exists when we can accept both the loss and the love.  In the words of Eckhart Tolle, “Forgive yourself for not being at peace. The moment you completely accept your non-peace, your non-peace is transmuted into peace. Anything you accept fully will get you there, will take you into peace. This is the miracle of surrender.”

I am with you on the journey.

Book Recommendations for Those Struggling with Complex Grief

For anyone navigating complex grief, reading can offer solace, understanding, and tools for healing. Here are a few books that can provide comfort and insight:

• • “On Grief and Grieving” by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler
    This book offers a deep exploration of the grief process, including the stages of grief and how to cope with them. Kübler-Ross and Kessler’s compassionate guidance can be a valuable resource for both those grieving and their loved ones.

• • “It’s OK That You’re Not OK: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn’t Understand” by Megan Devine
    A compassionate and practical guide for those navigating grief, Devine’s book acknowledges the challenges of living in a society that often expects people to “move on” too quickly. It offers permission to grieve fully, without feeling the pressure to “get over it.”

• • “The Body Keeps the Score” by Bessel van der Kolk
    For those who have experienced trauma or complex grief, this book provides valuable insight into how grief and trauma are stored in the body. Van der Kolk’s work highlights how somatic therapy and other body-centered practices can support healing from complex grief.

• • “Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief” by Martha Whitmore Hickman
    This book offers a daily meditative approach to navigating grief. Each entry provides thoughtful reflections that help individuals process their emotions and find comfort during difficult moments. A perfect guide for those seeking a manageable, day-by-day approach to grieving.