Grief Isn’t a Problem to Fix—It’s a Wound to Tend

Grief doesn’t follow a calendar. It doesn’t care if it’s been three months or three years. It arrives like a tide—sometimes quiet and still, other times loud and crashing—pulling us under when we least expect it. As a mental health counselor, I’ve sat with people who have lost partners, parents, children, homes, countries, and even parts of themselves. Grief takes many shapes. It is as complex and unique as the person experiencing it.

Yet so often, we’re told to “move on,” “stay strong,” or “be grateful for the time we had.” These phrases, however well-meaning, often leave people feeling more alone in their pain. Grief isn’t a problem to solve or a weakness to overcome. It’s a natural, necessary process—an expression of love and longing when something meaningful has been lost.

The Myth of the Timeline

We live in a culture that loves checklists. But grief doesn’t work that way. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—were never intended to be prescriptive or linear. In fact, she developed these stages in the context of people facing terminal illness, not those mourning a loss. Still, they’ve been widely adopted as a model for bereavement.

But the truth is, grief isn’t something you “get over.” You learn to live with it. Some days, it softens. Other days, it stings with the sharpness of the first moment. You can experience acceptance and still ache. That’s not a contradiction. That’s being human.

Jorge Bucay: Grief as a Journey, Not a Destination (Book: The Road of Tears)

Argentinian psychotherapist and author Jorge Bucay describes grief as a personal journey one that cannot be rushed or avoided. He emphasizes that every loss demands a process of internal transformation. According to Bucay, grief is not about forgetting or “moving on,” but about integrating the absence of a loved one into the fabric of our lives.

He writes, “You don’t overcome a loss by denying it. You overcome it by accepting that the absence is now part of your presence. The wound becomes part of who you are.” This view echoes the idea that we don’t “recover” from grief—we reconstruct ourselves around it. It becomes a scar, not a wound that disappears.

Grief is Not Always Loud

Sometimes grief looks like tears. But more often, it looks like forgetting to eat. Avoiding places. Lying awake at 2 a.m. with a racing heart and memories you didn’t invite. It can also be numbness—a sense that nothing matters because what mattered most is gone. Some clients tell me they feel guilty for not crying, or for laughing too soon. Others feel like the world has moved on and they’re still frozen in time. Grief, especially when unacknowledged by society, can be deeply isolating. There’s no “right” way to grieve. Your process is valid, even if it doesn’t match someone else’s.

Cultural Silence Around Grief

In many cultures—including mine—grief is often hidden. Mourning has a time limit. After the funeral, the calls stop. People don’t know how to stay with pain they can’t fix. As a result, many grievers are left to carry their sorrow in silence, feeling like they’re too much—or not grieving "the right way."

For refugees and displaced people, grief takes on even more complexity: mourning lost homes, languages, communities, and futures that will never be. These are ambiguous losses—hard to name, harder to grieve. They deserve recognition too.

Holding Space for Grief

In therapy, one of the most powerful things we do is bear witness—to sit in the darkness with someone and not try to turn on the light too quickly. Grief needs space. It needs rituals, language, and sometimes—creativity.

I often invite clients to write letters to their loved ones, or to the version of themselves before the loss. Some paint. Some create playlists. Others plant something in memory. These aren’t solutions—they’re soul offerings. Acts of remembrance and self-compassion.

Research supports this need for meaning-making. Neimeyer (2001) emphasizes that adjusting to loss involves not just emotional processing but reconstructing meaning in a changed world. People who are able to make sense of their loss—whether through spiritual beliefs, creative expression, or community—tend to adapt more effectively over time.

A Note to the Grieving If you are grieving—whether your loss is fresh or decades old—I want you to know: you are not broken. You are adapting. Your world has shifted, and you are finding your footing again. It may take time. It may come in waves. But you are not alone.

Grief is not a sign of weakness. It is a measure of love.

Take your time. Be gentle with yourself. And when you’re ready, reach out. Whether to a friend, a therapist, a support group—or even your journal—your grief deserves a place to land. As Jorge Bucay reminds us, “Healing doesn’t mean forgetting. It means remembering with less pain, with more love, and with more peace.”

References:

● Neimeyer, R. A. (2001). Meaning Reconstruction & the Experience of Loss. American

Psychological Association.

● Kübler-Ross, E., & Kessler, D. (2005). On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of

Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss. Scribner.