Grief Recovery

Why grief doesn’t end, doesn’t resolve, and doesn’t need fixing—only tending.

Hi sweetie. Let me scoot over so you can get into the booth. Moving over. That’s a great metaphor for today’s topic: grief recovery. Let me start with a qualification. Grief “recovery” is a misnomer. You don’t “get over” grief. Clearing out your loved one’s closet or swapping houses doesn’t exorcise the pain. I met a woman at a hospice grief group who, within six months of her husband’s death, sold all her old stuff, moved to a foreign city, and found a new job. Yet here she was -- shoulders slumped, eyes filled with pain – recounting, between gasping sobs, his last months and days.

This is not to say that grief should impale your heart fatally or forever. Just for every survivor, there is a unique heartbeat that must be discovered to keep living and hopefully thriving. So today I want to share some coping mechanisms I learned through the school of hard knocks with the hope that some may work for you.

Is there a grief survival guide?

There are as many ways to experience grief as there are survivors. I had a friend who suffered a tragic miscarriage at 22 weeks. Ten years later, this event remained so present in her that she took her living children regularly to their unborn sister’s grave. Other women I’ve known barely remember their miscarriages (sometimes multiple) as they live joyously in the presence of the healthy, happy families they ultimately spawned.

I’ve known women (like my mother) who desperately sought a partner after a long and loving marriage. These are the women who take homemade apple pie to any new widower who moves into their apartment building. They sometimes snag a man whose first wife is barely cold in the grave.

Although I completely understand the urge to re-pair, I’ve found research showing that outcome is not the norm. One study showed that only 19% of women were in a new romance or remarried within 25 months of their spouse’s death. And estimates are that as few as 2% of widows remarry. Personally, every time I become friends with a fellow, which for me is not uncommon, my children ask, “so…is this the one?” My reply is an adamant “hell no”. Why would I threaten my happy equation of independence and fulfillment with an unknown? But I also revel in my orneriness. The present I requested for my last birthday (and got) was a sweatshirt that read, “I am an embarrassment to my children”.

For men, the story is different. Within two years, an estimated 60% are remarried. In fact, I cannot recall a single, healthy, long-standing widower who hasn’t at least tried their hand at another committed romance. Go figure.

The territory of collective loss

Grief isn’t limited to death or individual experience. The same emotional upheaval can happen around losses not linked to death and to losses experienced by whole communities beset by disasters, wars, or pandemics. I vividly recall my Houston neighborhood flooding during Hurricane Harvey. Afterwards, while Mother Nature burst into glorious sunshine as if to say, “Who me?” friends stacked sodden furniture in their front lawns. Many lived in temporary housing for months while spending uncountable hours battling with insurance companies and predatory construction firms. One friend of David’s counted Harvey as the third time he and his wife had been displaced in the past two years. With a heavy heart, he sold off the home built by his father – the only hearth he’d known for 50 years.

Yet in our collective grief, the city came together in an unprecedented way---opening a huge resettlement facility in the Astrodome, which I helped to staff. Donating so much clothing and canned food the place looked like Walmart. It was a time memorable for both sadness and hope, teaching me that even in loss, humans instinctively reach toward connection and meaning.

The geography of support

In the painful passage after David’s death, I discovered that human connection takes on new meaning. Friends and family provided beautiful flowers and touch. What nourished my wounded spirit was presence over advice---friends who intuited how to show up in the way I needed, just listening without scooting me off to a support group, sending a daily text that simply said “thinking of you,” appearing at my door with soup. Even planning and carrying out David’s on-line memorial service, while I turned off my camera and cried. But always, always asking permission first. There was something sacred about honoring my autonomy when everything else felt chaotic.

The friends who mentioned David by name, who shared memories I’d forgotten, who kept his presence alive in conversation---they understood the soft side of grief as love seeking a new form of expression.

But grief also could be prickly. My suffering felt diminished by sentences that began with “at least” such as “at least you had a long run” or assured me I’d “get over it” because I’d always been “so strong.” Well-meaning spiritual explanations felt like barbs as did comparisons to other tragedies. Advice about new hobbies or partnerships seemed like admonishments to run while I could barely crawl. Worst was when people avoided the subject of David entirely, as if his name might wound me more than their silence already did.

Here’s what useful support sounded like:“What assumptions should I avoid as a helpful friend?” Or “I’m going to the grocery store---what can I pick up for you?” instead of “Let me know if you need anything”. Or “I know today is David’s birthday. Let’s go to dinner so you won’t be alone,” instead of, “What is it I can help you remember?”

Defining recovery: A philosophical shift

Recovery from grief is perhaps the most misunderstood concept in our contemporary understanding of loss. We live in a culture obsessed with resolution, with “getting back to normal,” as if grief were a temporary detour from life’s main highway rather than a fundamental transformation of our entire landscape.

Dr. Dennis Klass’s revolutionary research on “continuing bonds” challenged the traditional model that suggested healthy grieving required “letting go.” His longitudinal studies reveal that 89% of bereaved individuals maintain ongoing psychological connections with their deceased loved ones---not as pathology, but as a natural evolution of love beyond physical presence.

Recovery, I’ve learned, is not about returning to who you were before loss. That person no longer exists. Instead, it’s about integrating the reality of loss into a new version of yourself---one that carries both wound and wisdom, absence and presence, sorrow and gratitude simultaneously. It’s learning to hold paradox without demanding resolution.

The cultural tapestry of healing

Grief recovery unfolds differently across cultures, each offering unique wisdom about navigating loss. In Mexico, Día de los Muertos celebrates the ongoing presence of the departed through joyful remembrance. Jewish tradition prescribes specific mourning periods---shiva, shloshim, and the year-long recitation of kaddish---creating structured pathways through grief’s wilderness.

Many Indigenous cultures view grief as a communal responsibility. The Maori concept of tangihanga emphasizes that mourning is not a private burden but a collective journey requiring the support of the entire community. Research from New Zealand shows that individuals grieving within traditional Maori frameworks experience 40% lower rates of complicated grief compared to those grieving in individualistic contexts.

Just as there is beauty in the patterns of a tapestry, I found solace in considering the many ways people experience and support each other after a loss.

Family sagas

Fortunately, death did not shake the pillars of our family – it strengthened them. My son Joel disappeared into the woods with a backpack and his dog for a couple of weeks. My daughter Sara crafted found rocks into a lovely shrine in her kitchen then threw herself back into work. Yet, we started checking in more often, spending more time together. I’ve known adolescents who numbed themselves with drugs and alcohol or dealt with unprocessed grief through cutting. I’ve known families destroyed in their un-connected suffering.

Dr. Pauline Boss’s research on “ambiguous loss” reveals how, when family members grieve at different paces or in different ways, they can “get stuck”. One person might be ready to donate belongings while another still expects the deceased to walk through the door. The key, according to the Family Therapy Institute’s 15-year study, lies in accepting these differences without judgment – in creating space for the crier and the stoic, the one who talks constantly and the one who retreats.

When grief becomes complicated

For most of us, grief gradually transforms from sharp anguish to gentle ache, but for approximately 7-10% of bereaved individuals, grief becomes what clinicians call “complicated” or “prolonged.” This isn’t simply grieving for a long time---it’s when grief becomes so consuming that it prevents engagement with life’s essential functions for extended periods.

Dr. Katherine Shear at Columbia University has identified key markers of complicated grief: intense yearning and searching behaviors lasting beyond a year, inability to accept the death, persistent feelings of meaninglessness, difficulty moving forward without the deceased, and numbness or bitterness persisting without fluctuation.

The encouraging news is that specialized therapy---Complicated Grief Therapy (CGT)---shows remarkable success rates. A 2023 clinical trial found that 83% of participants showed significant improvement within 16 sessions. The treatment combines elements of cognitive-behavioral therapy with grief-specific interventions, helping individuals develop a continuing bond with the deceased while re-engaging with life.

The delicate question of new love

Perhaps no aspect of grief recovery generates more anxiety than the possibility of loving again. What is “too soon” or “not waiting too long”? Research from the Widow’s Project at Arizona State University followed 768 widowed individuals for five years. Their findings shatter the common assumption that finding new relationships improves emotional health. Some participants began dating within months and thrived; others waited years or never had a new love and flourished. What mattered wasn’t when but why and how.

Linda, a 62-year-old widow I met through hospice volunteering, told me, “My husband, James, died after 35 years of marriage. Eighteen months later, I met Michael at a grief support group. People judged me harshly---said I was on the rebound or dishonoring James’s name. But if anything, connecting with Michael honored James. James wanted me to be happy. He’d taught me how to love deeply, and that capacity didn’t die with him.”

The healthiest approach to new relationships after loss involves several considerations. First, it’s useful to be discerning about healing vs. distraction---new love should make you the most alive version of you, not an anesthetized you. Second, comparing partners creates impossible standards; you can never replace the one you lost. Third, when dealing with friends and family who struggle with your choice, just remember that their story is their story and yours is yours.

Practical pathways to healing

Just like marriage requires work, so does grief reduction. Here are some tips from research.

Ritual: Dr. Nigel Field’s work on “meaning-making” shows that individuals who create personal rituals around their loss demonstrate significantly better long-term outcomes. For me this involved lighting candles, listening to David’s favorite music, donating his violin to our local music school, and founding Fully Informed Conversations, a non-profit with the mission of smoothing the journey around death.

Physicality: Grief is not just intellectual but somatic. Dr. Peter Levine suggests that trauma and loss create physical holding patterns. Regular movement---whether through walking, dancing, yoga, or swimming---helps process stored emotions and rebuild resilience.

Creative expression: Words are often not enough. Painting, music, writing, crafting, or cooking can help integrate the raw material of grief into something meaningful.

Nature: Studies consistently show that time in nature reduces stress hormones and promotes emotional regulation. The Japanese practice of “forest bathing” (shinrin-yoku) has been scientifically validated as reducing cortisol levels and supporting immune function during stressful periods.

Service: Volunteering creates what researchers call “benefit finding”---discovering positive meaning within loss. When I began volunteering at hospice, almost every other volunteer was there because their lost one had benefitted from hospice services. The pain I feel hearing others’ suffering is more than compensated for by the hope that just showing up and listening adds a tiny moment of relief to the worst days of their lives.

The wisdom of continued becoming

In my Buddhist understanding, I am not a fixed being moving forward through time but a circular process of constant becoming. I am like a tree that sends out fragile shoots around a gnarly burl. I may not always feel fulfilled, but I feel more grateful. I may not always feel joyous, but I feel wiser.

There is an ancient Greek concept called “eudaimonia”---often translated as flourishing. In the best of worlds, loss is gain – loss is less about happiness in the momentary sense and more about living according to my deepest values.

TAKE HOMES:

Grief recovery is not a destination but an approach to traveling. It’s learning to dance with absence, to find meaning within meaninglessness, to love knowing that all love is ultimately lost.

For some, it’s finding new love; for others, it’s contemplative solitude. The wisdom lies not in prescriptive formulas but in trusting your own unfolding process while remaining open to connection.

For those wanting to help a survivor, support centers on curiosity. What is wanted? What specially is needed? Have you checked in and gotten permission?

In the end, grief recovery is about learning to inhabit the full spectrum of human experience---embracing both the shadows and the light, understanding that they are not opposites but partners in the dance of meaningful existence.

Join the conversation---Tell me about your own experiences with grief recovery and what practices have supported healing. And don’t forget to visit Fully Informed Conversations

Livingly yours,

Mom
Roberta Ness, MD, MPH