creative writing about grief

37 Ways To Write About Grief

In this post, we have included 37 things for you to consider when you write about grief .

One of our most popular series of posts on Writers Write is ‘ways to write about different emotions’. We’ve written about these so far:

• 37 Ways To Write About Anger
• 32 Ways To Write About Fear
• 43 Ways To Write About Love
• 29 Ways To Write About Happiness
• 40 Ways To Write About Empathy

In today’s post, we look at ways to write about grief.

This is not necessarily a post about grief as a story, but about how the emotion of grief affects the characters and the plotting of a book.

How do we  write about grief  in an authentic way?

A) What Is Grief?

Grief is an intense sorrow, a feeling of deep and poignant distress, which is usually caused by someone’s death (including a pet’s). Grief can also be felt with the ending of a relationship, or the death of a dream or an idea around which a life has been built. It can be felt with the diagnosis of a terminal illness. It is an intense emotion and the pain can seem unbearable.

Words associated with grief include:

Use these words when you’re describing a grieving person.

People often describe grief as a process . There are generally five stages associated with grief:

These are based on On Death and Dying , the 1969 book by psychiatrist Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. Some people may experience them in this order, but they can occur in any sequence and you can revisit the stages at any time. Some people skip a stage and others can experience more than one at the same time. The length of grieving depends on the person. It may take weeks or months or years.

People have also added ‘shock’ and ‘guilt’ to these stages.

B) Body Language

In your body language,  signs of loss are important. You can:

• Curl into a foetal position.
• Cover your face with hands or a pillow or blanket.
• Stare unseeingly.
• Sob uncontrollably.
• Find it hard to swallow.
• Wrap your arms around yourself.
• Scratch your hands and arms.
• Push people away.

C) Ways To Create Conflict With Grief

• The loss of a loved one can spur your main character into action. Love interests in fiction are the most common way to create internal  and  external  conflict. A love interest does not have to be a romantic love interest. ‘It can be a friend, a pet, or a family member.’ ( source ) The loss of this loved one could create a need for revenge or simply for healing.
• The emotion of grief could cause the character to lose their job, or resign from it.
• The emotion of grief could change other important relationships that were dependant on the person who has died.

D)  The Importance Of Grief In Plotting

Grief is a powerful and debilitating emotion. Only use it if it serves your plot.

• If you want to write a book about grief, this will obviously be your main plot. You will show the pain and despair of your main character and how they find their way back to life again. A good way to do this is with the use of a motif that is derived from a hobby or an occupation. The grieving person could be building a boat, or breeding a rare species of birds – anything that gives them a tangible story goal. They must do something – or the book would be boring.
• If you want to use it as a sub-plot, the death of the love interest is the one to choose. The love interest  is the most useful and the most common of all  sub-plots .
• Use their loss to show us more about them.
• Use the loss and their grief to move the story forward. This works in a detective story where the main character vows revenge for their loss – or simply becomes more determined to make things that are wrong, right.

E) Exercises For  Writing About Grief

• Write about the moment your protagonist is told about someone they love dying. Use body language, dialogue, and the senses if you can.
• Write about the moment your antagonist is told about someone they love dying. Use body language, dialogue, and the senses if you can.
• Show how a grieving person is unable to stick to their daily routine. Let them wake up to the loss and then show how they go about trying to get ready for the day.
• Show a moment where a grieving person is pulled out of the well of despair by something that happens that gives them a story goal .
• Write 12 diary entries on the first day of each month after the character has lost their loved one. Show how they change over the year.

Top Tip : Use our  Character Creation Kit to create great characters for your stories.

If you liked this blogger’s writing, you may enjoy:

• 10 Perfect Writing Prompts For Thanksgiving
• The Romantic Hero
• Fictional Pillars For Writers
• The 4 Pillars Of A Memoir
• Banned Books Week – The 10 Most Challenged Titles Of 2020
• What Is Procrastination & How Do Writers Beat It?
• The 5 Pillars Of Police Procedurals
• Mystery, Horror, Thriller – What’s The Difference?
• 101 Words To Describe Weather
• How To Tell If You’re Writing About The Wrong Character

Top Tip : Find out more about our  workbooks  and  online courses  in our  shop .

• Body Language , Creating Characters , Description , Featured Post , Show Don't Tell , Writing Tips from Amanda Patterson

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55 Journaling Prompts For Grief To Help You Heal

• Journaling , Journaling Prompts

Losing someone or something that you love is one of the most difficult experiences anyone can go through in life.  Whether it’s the loss of a child, a family member, a friend, or even a beloved pet, the grieving process can be a long and challenging journey.  It can be incredibly hard to find the right words to express your feelings and sometimes it feels like there are literally no words to explain how deep your grief is.  This is where grief journaling prompts can help you.  

When dealing with grief, writing in a journal can give you a safe space to express your pain and anguish. Using journal prompts for grief can offer a starting point for your writing, giving you a framework to work with as you navigate your emotions, feelings, grief, and loss.

In this article, you will find 55 journaling prompts for grief that I hope you will find helpful.  They are designed to help you process your emotions, reflect on experiences, and help you to find a way to move forward. 

Of course, it is important to remember that everyone’s grieving journey is unique and there is no on-size-fits-all approach to coping with grief.  These prompts are just a starting point and you can adapt them as you wish or use them for ideas for your own prompts if you would like to.  And remember to reach out to someone for help and support if you need to as you work on your grief recovery!

Reflecting On Your Loss

Losing someone you love can be a devastating experience that can leave you feeling lost and uncertain. Grief journaling can help you to reflect on your loss by giving you a safe place to process your emotions and come to terms with what has happened. 

• Describe your loved one. What did you love about them? Describe how they looked, what made them smile, fun things you did together, their favorite holiday, etc. Write in as much detail as possible and include anything that you would specifically like to treasure and remember.
• Write about the moment you found out about the loss.
• Describe the feelings you experienced in the first 24 hours after you lost your loved one.
• What were some of the thoughts that went through your mind in the days and weeks following your loss?
• Reflect on the impact your loss has had on your life so far.
• Write about any regrets or unfinished business related to the loss of your loved one.
• Write a letter to your loved one expressing how grateful you are for the time that you had with them and why they were so special. 
• If you could give your loved one, one message today, what would it be?
• Describe any physical sensations or symptoms you experienced in response to the loss.
• How have your relationships with others changed since the loss?
• Write about any spiritual or existential questions losing your loved one has raised for you.
• Reflect on any ways that the loss has changed your perspective on life.
• Describe any ways that you have found meaning or purpose in the loss.

Processing Your Emotions

Grief is difficult and it can bring up a wide range of emotions and feelings such as sadness, anger, guilt, and confusion.  Journaling while you grieve can help you understand and work through these difficult feelings allowing you to ultimately find a way to move forward.

• Write about a time when you felt overwhelmed by grief.
• Describe a moment when you felt angry or resentful about your loss. How did you deal with your emotions?
• Create a list of things that bring you comfort or peace when you’re feeling sad or upset.
• Reflect on any ways that you’ve tried to avoid or escape from your grief.
• Write about a time when you felt guilty or ashamed about something related to the loss of your loved one. 
• Describe a moment when you felt grateful or appreciative despite your grief.
• How do you handle anxiety or fear related to the loss?
• Reflect on any ways that have helped you to find joy or happiness despite your grief.
• Write about a time when you felt frustrated or helpless in response to your loss.
• Describe a moment, no matter how brief, when you felt at peace or acceptance about the loss. 
• Do you experience any feelings of guilt or shame in moments of peace or acceptance?

Remembering Your Loved One

Remembering your loved ones can be a source of comfort and healing during the grieving process. Here you will find grief journaling prompts to help you remember and honor your loved one.  

• Create a memory book with everything and anything that reminds you of your loved one. Include photos, memories, lists of favorites such as movies, songs, books etc.    
• Write about your favorite memory of the person you lost.
• Describe a quality or trait that you admired about the person.
• Reflect on a time when the person made you laugh or smile.
• Write about a time when you felt most connected to your loved one. Why is this memory so special?
• Write about a gift or lesson the person gave you that you appreciate.
• Describe a place or activity that reminds you of your loved one.
• Reflect on a time when the person was there for you in a difficult moment.
• Write about a time when you disagreed with the person or had a conflict. How do you feel about that time now?
• Describe a way in which the person inspired or motivated you.
• Reflect on a time when the person surprised you or did something unexpected.
• Write about a dream or hope you have for the person’s legacy or memory.
• Plant a tree or create a garden in your loved one’s memory taking the time to reflect on how much they meant to you.
• If you are creative, create something to honor the memory of your loved one such as a painting, a piece of music, a poem.

Seeking Support

Sometimes grief can be lonely and isolating, especially when it feels like the whole world has moved on.  But it doesn’t have to be.  Seeking support from others can help you to feel less alone and can give you a sense of connection and understanding.  In this section, I’ve included prompts to help you find ways to seek support in a way that is meaningful for you. 

• Create a list of supportive people in your life and how they have helped you cope with your loss and that you feel comfortable with.
• Have you found support groups or a therapist who has been helpful to you?  If so, how have they helped you?  
• Write about a time in the past when you reached out for help or support and how it made you feel.
• Think about a friend or family member who has been understanding and supportive. How can you create more time with this person?  How can you thank this person for their love and support?
• Write down a list of self-care practices or routines that help you find comfort and peace. How can you include these in your life on a more regular basis? 
• Write about a time when you felt like you were alone in your grief. How did you cope?  Is there someone you can get in touch with when you feel this way?
• Write about a community or organization that has provided support or grief resources for you.
• Write about a day when you felt like you were making progress in your grief.
• Reflect about a time when you felt like you were stuck or not making progress in your grief. What did you do to move through this difficult time?  Were there any particular people or self-care practices that helped you?
• Is there someone in your community who is going through something similar to you?  Is there any way that you can offer them love and support as they also grieve?

Take care of yourself by incorporating self-love into your journaling. Get started with our collection of Self-Love Journaling Prompts .

Finding Meaning and Purpose

Often losing a loved one can leave you feeling lost and without direction in life.  Finding new meaning and purpose can give you a sense of hope and renewal which will help you to find a way forward.

• Write about a way that your loss has inspired you to make a positive change in your life, even if it’s something simple like telling people in your life that you love them more regularly.
• Create a list of things you can do to help in your community such as volunteering for example.
• Are there any hobbies or activities you have always wanted to try? Create a list and find ways to begin with something new today!
• Describe a goal, dream, or passion that has emerged from your grief. Think of ways you can start pursuing these. 
• Create a list of ten things you are grateful for despite your grief.
• Write about how your loss has helped you appreciate the present moment.
• Think about a time when you felt like you were making a difference in the world.  How did this make you feel?
• Describe a way that your loss has helped you develop greater empathy or compassion for others.

Gratitude is a powerful force for healing! Our list of over 300 gratitude journal prompts can help you get started.

Journaling offers you a unique way to explore and work through the difficult emotions that come when grieving the loss of a  loved one. 

Using journaling prompts for loss and grief can give you a starting point and framework to work from as you process your grief and find a way forward all while honoring your loved one’s memory.

Sometimes simply putting pen to paper can be a powerful way to honor your loved one, process your feelings, and work towards healing.  Remember that grief is a journey and a grief journal can be a valuable companion on that journey.  I pray these prompts will help you as you work towards peace and healing. 

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Show, Don’t Tell: How to Write the Stages of Grief

by Ruthanne Reid | 59 comments

How do you make your readers cry?

I promise this post won't be a downer. What it will be (hopefully) is really useful advice on how to portray the stages grief—and in the process, maybe encourage you to continue creating even during your own personal sorrow.

“We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey,” said Kenji Miyazawa.

Well, my friends: it's time to break beautifully.

Breaking Beautifully

“When artists break, they try to break beautifully. Sit, smile, and enjoy the pieces of a shattered soul.” – quote from Tumblr

Most of us have read stories portraying grief so spectacularly that we felt  it as we read, weeping alongside fictitious graves.  Of course, most of us have also read stories with grief that utterly failed to move us, which (I think we can all agree) is something we'd prefer not  to write.

The power of story largely resides in its power to evoke emotions. Our favorite works all tend to follow that path. We read about a heroine who succeeds against impossible odds, and we are bolstered by her courage. We read about the ridiculous antics of a teenage boy who's too smart for his own good, and we share both his embarrassments and his triumphs.

Empathy is the ultimate form of “ show, don't tell .”

But in order to portray the stages grief effectively, we have to observe it. Grief is weird. It lingers. It colors everything and its symptoms change over time. Most importantly of all, grief leads to a particular kind of storytelling: finding the “why.”

To Write the Stages of Grief, Find the Why

“He who has a why can bear any how.” – Dr. Viktor Frank, a psychologist and holocaust survivor

At our hearts, we are all storytellers. It's part of the human condition to explain the world to ourselves in a way we'll accept. We rationalize. We imagine scenarios to help ourselves understand.

If your character has experienced past grief, then one of two things happens over time:

• They find a “why” of some kind and make peace with it (even if that “why” is “bad stuff happens and I accept that”).
• Or they have no “why,” and cannot shed the weight of the grief they carry.

That “why” can be anything. Religious, scientific, poetic—we are terrific storytellers, down to our core. Here's a royal, real-life example:

“Grief is the price we pay for love.” – Queen Elizabeth II

There's reasoning in there, a why. 

The story your character tells herself gives your character direction. Does she blame the deceased for his death? Does she blame someone else, or hold to a faith in cruel fate that could strike again at any time?

The story she tells herself can grow hope or prevent it from blooming. It determines the choices she makes in the wake of her grief.

Homework Assignment: what story is your character telling himself? 

BONUS: By the way, this can give birth to a really great plot-twist. If a decade after the fact, evidence comes to light that blows the survivor's rationalization to bits, then that survivor has a whole new set of motivations to carry your plot along. Boom: story.

How to Write the Stages of Grief

Along with that story, there will be symptoms of grief. These symptoms vary over the various stages of grief, and you should be aware of them as you describe your character's grief.

Immediate Grief

• Physical sensations (throat thickening, lack of appetite or increased appetite, nausea, a weight in the chest, trembling hands, swollen eyes, stuffed nose)
• Thought patterns (denial, what if, if only, I didn't get to say goodbye, I wish I hadn't/had said That Thing, why-why-why-why-why)
• Stress symptoms (inability to sleep, lack of desire to take part in once-loved activities)
• Social symptoms (the insistence everything is fine, or the inability to hide grief in public; withdrawal from activities; irritability; over-booking activities to keep busy)

During the initial stages of grief, some or all of these might be present. Your character will not necessarily verbalize them; they could be happening “off-screen.” However, they will be happening, and that should make a difference how your character behaves – and how your readers empathize.

Homework Assignment: how does your character handle immediate grief? Socially? Physically? 

Long-Term Grief

Long-term grief is very different from immediate grief. Even this short list is a little baffling:

• Denial . Boy, can this take a lot of forms. Denial of the cause of death, of culpability, of grief itself – which leads to stress physically and emotionally, not to mention living in such a way as to prove that denial true.
• Corollary: Gut-punch sorrow upon remembering that loss. It feels a little like losing the person all over again.
• Corollary: Resulting gut-punch of guilt, as if  remembering were a sacred duty that must not be shirked. This isn't as weird as it might seem. There's a reason most ancient cultures cherished numerous festivals and sacrifices to and for the dead. Remembering matters.
• Living for the person . His mom was gonna be a dancer? And hey, looky there: twenty years later, he owns a dance studio, and he may not have even realized he's carrying on her dream.
• The deceased made a statement or held a belief that the survivor feels is absolutely untrue.
• Death prevented any kind of satisfactory conclusion to their disagreement.
• The survivor then attempts to live in such a way that it proves that naysayer wrong. (“Oh, I can't be a great archeologist as a woman, huh? Well, now I'm the best in my field!”)
• Rationalization . Remember that story we tell ourselves? Over the long term, that story usually gets set in stone. If you know what your character's story is, you will know WHY they do a lot of the things they do. It's a powerful writing tool.
• Irrational fear of whatever it was that killed that person. (e.g., run over by a garbage truck, and therefore it is Horse And Buggy Time Forever).
• Embracing whatever it was that killed that person. (e.g., run over by a garbage truck, and therefore the survivor now drives a truck to conquer that fear.)
• Continued Physical Symptoms of Stress.  High blood pressure. Ulcers. Poor sleep. Refusal to let anyone too close. If the bereavement was not dealt with and the “why” does not suffice, your character can go through a whole host of horrible symptoms.

Homework Assignment: How does your character handle grief in the long term? Do they embrace the cause of death, or run away from it? Has it shaped career choices?

Conclusion: Show Grief, Don't Tell It

If you want your character's grief to be powerful, you must learn to show it, not tell it .

You could say , “She cried,” or you could show that her nose is stuffed, that her eyes are simultaneously dry and leaking, and that her voice is hoarse.

You could  say,  “He had crazy thoughts of joining her,” or you could  show by having him ask himself, “What if I'd been in the car with her? What if I had begged her not to drive while drinking? If only I'd taken her keys!”

When Grieving, Write On

Permit me to get personal before practice time.

The years of 2011 to 2012 were rough. One of my best friends died, followed by my grandmother, then the college professor who was basically a surrogate father, and finally, my own mother.

The causes varied wildly (aneurysm; age; hit-and-run; drowning).  The timing was insane (February 2011; June 2011; December 2011; June 2012). It seemed I'd barely recovered from one loss when another would cut the corner to hit me head-on. To say it took a lot out of me is analogous to saying there are a lot of cats on the internet.

The thing is, I had a debut book to finish.  The Sundered was due to go public June, 2012. I couldn't afford to take time off creatively. I had to write through it, and I did that by focusing on what I experienced and pouring it into the page.

I wrote like a madwoman. Was everything I wrote good? Heck, no. No one will ever see most of what I wrote during that period (and believe me, you would thank me if you knew).

But am I glad I kept writing? Yes. A thousand times yes.

If you take nothing else from this article, take this: if you continue to create while you are grieving, you will survive it better. 

It's not a “why.” It doesn't make the loss less bad; but creation, like growth, only happens when we are living.

Keep writing. Keep creating. If you must break, break beautifully – and then your characters can break beautifully, too.

Has your character experienced grief? Have you?  Let us know in the comments section .

It's time to practice writing your character through grief. Take fifteen minutes  and dive into the story they're telling themselves about this loss (the why), then post it in the comments section . If you share a practice, please comment on the stories of others.

Ruthanne Reid

Best-Selling author Ruthanne Reid has led a convention panel on world-building, taught courses on plot and character development, and was keynote speaker for The Write Practice 2021 Spring Retreat.

Author of two series with five books and fifty short stories, Ruthanne has lived in her head since childhood, when she wrote her first story about a pony princess and a genocidal snake-kingdom, using up her mom’s red typewriter ribbon.

When she isn’t reading, writing, or reading about writing, Ruthanne enjoys old cartoons with her husband and two cats, and dreams of living on an island beach far, far away.

P.S. Red is still her favorite color.

59 Comments

She closed the door after she offered one last expression of gratitude, and he returned one last sentiment of condolence. She didn’t know what she had expected to happen next. Perhaps she thought she would slump down against the door, and sob helplessly, but instead, she found herself walking automatically back to the kitchen table. After all, she had been interrupted halfway through a meal, and they’d have wanted her to finish it. Starving children in Africa and all that. She took a bite of the leftover chicken breast, but didn’t taste it. Leftover chicken doesn’t usually have much of a taste, but today she probably could have chewed a fresh jalapeño without tasting it. She swallowed mechanically and picked up the next bite, her mind refusing to grasp anything consciously, until it seized upon a word. “Tragedy.” That was what the officer had said – it was a tragedy, her parents being killed in a hostage taking gone bad. Years of theatre training tumbled in her head as she thought about that one word. In a tragedy, the protagonist is tripped up by a tragic flaw. They have some character defect that inevitably leads to their downfall. Her parents aren’t tragic figures, they are – were – heroes. Philanthropists. They never had an unkind word to say to anyone, and had gone to the bank today to endow a scholarship. In fact, the only flaw that her parents could be said to have was her. She had applied to several colleges for theatre studies and dance, and her father had chided her softly about how she would change the world. She had heard the unspoken implication that she could be doing more, and had resented the guilt trip that she felt he was trying to place on her. Why shouldn’t she do what made her happy? Now, as she shoved another dollop of reheated mashed potatoes in her mouth, she felt the guilt anew. If this was a tragedy, she was the one with the tragic flaw. All of her parents’ kindness and money, and she was going to spend her days prancing gracefully around a stage, instead of doing something meaningful. Her eyes lit upon the business card upon the table; she had tossed it there carelessly after the officer had handed it to her, but now she studied it: the logo and name bringing back the image of the officer who had been given the unenviable task of bringing her the news, of his uniform, the haunted look behind his eyes of some tragedy of his own. Her parents were right. She could make a difference, and she knew how. She knew what she wanted to become. The difference between a comedy and a tragedy is that a comedy celebrates life, while tragedy highlights its futility. Her parents’ lives would not end as a tragedy, and certainly not through her own tragic flaws: her self-centeredness, her lack of ambition. Instead, she would take what her parents had given her and become a different sort of hero: one who could prevent evil from claiming innocent lives, like those of her parents.

I really like the little detail about her not tasting anything, and that she wouldn’t taste anything that day, I found the very effective. It’s also a nicely different take, having someone sit down and eat instead of throwing up or refusing food for days after the fact. Really well done, love it 🙂

Thanks for the feedback, and thanks for reading!

What a powerful piece! You leave me wanting to know more about what happened after this.

Once the diagnosis of cancer was made, he quit calling home. I didn’t have any communication with him after May 25, 2011. That was it. No more talks, no more reaching out, we were receiving texts once in a while.

It hurt. It hurt, more than anything else, to be shut out. I tried to tell myself; he was trying to protect me. But was he? I’m not sure. Four years later, as I write this, I wonder. When he stopped talking to us, my husband said something that has haunted me since. Roger said “Get on a plane before it’s too late.” I didn’t get on a plane. And, I regret it so much. I asked Christopher, “Could I come to take care of him?” He said “no.” Maybe, I shouldn’t have asked him. Maybe, I should have went without asking. These questions circulated my mind for years. They still do sometimes. There is no answer. In my mind by not being there at his bedside, and letting him die alone. I was a bad mother. Knowing that a good mother would have been at his side, I knew I was not a good mother. I was not there. After Christopher’s death, these thoughts were torturous. “How could a good mother not want to be there when their child is sick?” A mother is the first one to the aid of a sick child. A mother holds their hand, comforts them, and protects them. Knowing that Christopher died, and I was not present made me a bad mother. The good mother code had been broken. “How was I going to face my husband, my younger son, and myself knowing he died alone?” As a mother, I would have been watching over him. I know I would have noticed when he stopped breathing. As it unfolded, he stopped breathing, and was dead for a period of time. Before Britney came back into the room to find him dead in the hospital bed. Throughout this time, Bob and Jane, his friends, were watching over him while Britney was gone. They were in the room when he died. They never even noticed he was not breathing. It is inconceivable that they could be in a room with a dead body, and not know it. “Honestly, who does that?’ After his death, I chose to bury Christopher in South Dakota. His friends didn’t take this news well. I tried to explain away their behavior as being a part of their grief. Yet, the pain their behavior caused stays with me. The day after he died. Bob and Jane, the same two friends, who were in the room when he died, went to Christopher’s apartment. They told the landlord Christopher did not have any relatives. They requested the keys to his apartment. The landlord gave them the keys. They went into his apartment, and helped themselves to whatever they wanted. I found out days afterward, when I called the landlord, who told me what happened. I was devastated, and angry. “No relatives”, were they serious? He had a mother, a father, a step mother, a step father and two brothers, who cared about him deeply. He had grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles, who cared about him. It was a punch to the gut. When confronted, Jane said, “I was going to pack up his stuff and keep it in my garage.” I was furious, “how dare they mess with his stuff?” I wasn’t ready to say he was never coming back to his apartment. It had only been two days. Christopher wasn’t even in the ground yet. My husband said it best. He said, “Don’t mess with the baby bears stuff unless you want mama bear breathing down your neck.” The worst was yet to come, for his friends said, Christopher told them; I had not been a good mother. “I had not been there to support him except at graduation.” Another friend said, “Christopher had told her he hoped I was a better grandmother than I was mother.” “How did they know that was my weak point? How could they have known?” I told no one. It was a secret being a bad mother, I kept it to myself, and cried alone at night about it. Christopher’s “so-called” friend posted a message on my Facebook saying “Don’t think just because you came to his graduation that you were a good mother.” This message was left on my Facebook page for the whole world to see. I was exposed to be the bad mother, I was. A constant struggle from the time Christopher was born was making sure, I was a good mother. One hint, or one word that I was not a good mother would send me into a depression consistently throughout his life. My thoughts would race, my heart would pound, and I was exposed to be the bad mother, I was. After a few days, the loathing of myself would subside. Life interrupted forcing me to go forward. The perceived mistake, which had prompted the depression, would go underground to be relived in those moments of questioning: “Am I a good mother?” This fear of not being a good mother came, as most things do, through the interactions with one’s own parents. The relationship between my mother, and I has been rocky for most of my life. She is petite, blonde, and beautiful. I, however, am a carbon copy of my biological father. I have muddy blonde hair, blue eyes, with a stocky build. Not only were we different in appearances; we were different in personalities. Her every day interactions with the people around her always had a bite to it. I, on the other hand, was well liked, and personable including a strong sense of independence with a strong will. Interactions between us were clashes of dominance, which continue today. The strong will is both a strength, and a curse for submission is not allowed. In any interaction with my mother, submission was imperative for survival. My hypercritical mother was the one, who set the standards for parenting for everyone else except her. She insisted, she knew what a good mother was. “A good mother according to her never made mistakes” The problem being in her eyes, I was a giant, walking, mistake. Growing up, she often stated “Cristi, you have to live with me until you are 21 years. You are too stupid to make your own decisions.” Having Christopher when I was unmarried, and 19 years old did nothing to convince her; she was wrong. With the death of my son these images, and words came back to haunt me. Immediately, the old programming kicks in with the thought “I am a bad mother.” I had left my son in Louisiana. He had died alone without me by his side. The guilt kicked in convincing me, I was a bad person, a bad mother that is why he died. Every mistake I had made in my life came back to haunt me. My mother’s voice echoed through my head. “You are a bad mother. I need to take Christopher away from you” Always that fear was there, that she would follow through on her threats of taking him away. “Was I being punished for this mistake?” Or, maybe it was my biggest mistake of all; which was practicing an alternative religion which did not believe in Jesus Christ. “What was it?” “What made me so different than the other mothers who got to see their children grow up, get married, and grow old?” “How come me?” It was ever present in my mind, and never really left. “What did I do so wrong that I lost a child?” Having been a counselor for over 10 years, I saw many mothers, who did not necessarily like being a parent. These mothers were more interested in men, drugs, alcohol, or work. “How could they get to keep their children, and I could not?” It was a war between you are not being punished for your mistakes and you are being punished for your mistakes. This fear of not being a good mother is a major crisis surrounding the loss of a child. It is the fear, and the pain we keep in our souls. It is never shown the light, or shared for someone may say “you are a bad mother that is why your child died?”In retrospect, when I think about what would have happened if I had been 3,000 miles away from home, and lost my mind, what would have happened?” It scares me to think about it. I would have been wailing on the floor like a crazy banshee in a hospital; or I could have saved him by noticing he was not breathing. It is easy to look behind us into the past to do the “would have? Could have? And, should have? I judged myself more harshly than anyone else. But, this is what mothers’ do. We protect our children from the bad. We make them better when they are hurt, sad, or mad. Me as a mother, was supposed to make it better. I was supposed to be there to hold his hand as he died. I wasn’t there, and I failed him. Somehow in my irrational thinking process, I began to make a connection between my practices of an alternate religion with being a bad mother. The thought process became “I am a bad mother because I helped someone in the circle pray.” My friends endured endless questions asking the same thing. “Did I cause his death?” Over, and over again, I would ask. Despite the answer, I continued to ask. “Did I cause his death?” Alone at 2 or 3 am, this question raced through my mind. The logical mind would try to intervene. This emotion, this fear ran so deep; it could not be controlled with logic. This fear made his dying within my control. If it was within my control, I could have changed my behavior so he wouldn’t die. The unexpectedness, and uncontrollability of death, and its effects created havoc on my sense of self, my emotions, and my soul. If I could control death, then I could have prevented Christopher from dying.It looks like an easy process on paper, it was not. For months, this question was never far from my mind. I could be working. It would be a wiggle in the back of the brain. It woke me up most nights, and kept me awake for hours. I stopped asking others after a while. I finely figured out only I could answer the question. “Did I cause Christopher’s death?”The pain is an ache which never went away. It felt the same day or night, no matter what I was doing. Your brain doesn’t work right either when you have so much pain, and emotion inside of you. In order to think, I had to cut through these emotions, and pain to get to a place where thought would happen. Some days I didn’t have the energy to even try. My coping skills were overwhelmed when Christopher died. The emotional energy needed to cope with the thoughts of being a bad mother, or the emotions, and pain of death did not exist. Interestingly, it has been almost four years since Christopher died, and the intensity of my feelings are quite low compared to before he died. I tended to have powerful emotions that were difficult to control for years before Christopher died. Now, I don’t care about most things. The reality is I don’t have the emotional energy to care. I am completed drained of emotional energy. It does not seem to be coming back. In many ways, this is a blessing. Life is easier when the things you care about become a precious few. In some ways, it is a curse. There are days when I feel dead inside. I keep wondering “How come my give a dam is not working?” “When will it be fixed?” My “good mother crisis” has lessened over the years. “Do I still question myself about my parenting skills?” “Yes, I do” “I always will, because Christopher is not here to say, “You were a good mother” What has changed is the loathing, and self-hate, I flogged myself with which has been healed. I don’t have a formula that I can share which will help you heal. What I want to tell you, is you can heal. It takes time. It takes work. It takes believing in yourself. It is not something someone else can do for you. I can promise you, the journey will be worth it.

This is a combination of excerpts from a chapter in a book I am set to publish on July 1, called the Solitary Journey through the loss of a child. It took me 149 pages to answer your 15 minutes practice. There is so much more to grief.

Wow. This was incredibly emotionally raw. It got to the point, about halfway through, where I started to wince every time I read the words “bad mother.” In most things I read, I’d criticize such a repetition of two phrases (“good mother”/”bad mother”), but it was incredibly effective here, because that’s what grief and guilt do – they drive that same message into your head over and over. It was very moving. I would suggest you have someone go through it and proofread it before you publish it. There are a few minor typos (“give a dam” instead of “damn”, “baby bears”-missing an apostrophe, etc.) and I don’t know if it’s an artifact of it being a combination of excerpts, but you may want to improve the paragraphing, for readability’s sake. That stream-of-consciousness, one-thought-running-into-another effect works well here for a monologue on motherhood, but if it’s the same kind of paragraphing over 149 pages, that might get tedious. Once again, this was heart-wrenching, and it so powerfully answered the prompt and showed real grief. Thank you for showing us your beating heart (unless that was fiction, in which case, holy crap, that is even more impressive).

Thanks. I am having a friend edit for me. I started with a professional editor. It changed the story when she did that. I wanted it to be my words. Thanks for the edits. And not fiction that is my heart. There is less emotional content between those paragraphs. I left them out because it did not answer the prompt.

A professional editor shouldn’t change your words, they should make suggestions for how you might change your words and help you to change them, should you both decide it’s needed. The only words editors should change are ones that are simply incorrect – you’ve used an incorrect version of the same word, or affect instead of effect, inquiry instead enquiry etc. I say this as an editor myself – if the person you were working with was changing your words, they weren’t doing their job correctly. Don’t let it put you off working with someone else in future, you just have to find the right fit for you. Someone specific to your genre who has a track record of editing books you love is always a good start 🙂

Good points, Hazel. Also a good editor will do a sample edit so you can decide if they are the right fit. I had the opposite problem. I kept asking my editor for suggestions which he refused to do as he said he was not the author and that was not his place! Luckily he did two passes (for the price of one) so I finally accepted that I need to “find the right words” myself. That was my biggest fear when looking for an editor: that they would change my words. It’s ironic that I then turned around and was asking for suggestions. Sherrie Do you know a/b my debut novel “Secrets & Lies in El Salvador”? A young American woman goes to war-torn El Salvador: http://tinyurl.com/klxbt4y

I would also recommend a test section being done before you commit to anything for the sake of both author and editor – both need to know they are happy to work with the other and that they are a good fit, and the editor needs to know the MS is something they are comfortable working with and can do a good job on – a good editor will not accept anything that’s outside their remit. I’m happy to make suggestions regarding how to reformat a sentence, or restructure something if i’m copy-editing, but I’ll go no further than that. It really depends on what form of editing I’m doing – if I’m doing Line by Line or developmental editing I will make suggestions on word choice if I feel it’s necessary, or if the author asks for help, but under the strict understanding that I’m doing so as an EXAMPLE of what needs to be done in order smooth out that section. The Author should then re-work the section in their own words, bearing in mind what I’ve said. It’s not always easy for two different people to understand an explanation of the weaknesses of a particular aspect of a work without actually demonstrating it.

“Your brain doesn’t work right either when you have so much pain, and emotion inside of you.”

I LOVE this line! It’s so true, and something that people who’ve never been there often don’t quite grasp. I really like the fixation on blame and whether or not it was her fault – that, again, is a thing that often happens. Grief turns to obsession so easily, I’ve often wondered if it’s actually a coping mechanism – by pouring all your energy into wondering if (say) you were a bad mother and it was your fault, you don’t actually have to deal with the greater trauma. You’re too busy worrying over a relatively small concern to actually face the fact you’ve lost a child.

Really enjoyed this (if enjoyed is the right word), thanks for sharing!

Thanks Hazel. I am never quite sure if someone will get it. Yes, it is a coping mechanism I believe too.

It seems that God is trying to break through your doubt, if you will open your heart to him. I really admire that you were able to share this, and even more that you can write a book describing that worst moment in your life. I wish you all the best with your writing! “Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not unto men” -Reagan

Oh my, the what-ifs. I know them very well. My wife decided on a Sunday in 2008, when I was gone to end her life. I have spent the years since playing that what-if, and so many variations of that, game. What if I had not been gone? What if I had gotten her more involved in whatever? What if this, maybe that, but in the end I realized if not then, it would have been another time. In the end I realized I gave her twenty good years that most likely she would not have had. I loved her then, I love her now, and there are still bubbles of grief that inundate me over the loss, but I have moved on.

Cristi, I wasn’t able to read this for a while because of real-life grief. It’s evocative; you’ve tapped into the real regrets and questions we all do in situations like this. Thank you for sharing such a raw and powerful piece!

We were taking an intersection down Route 54 when this truck turned up on our left. The semi-trailer kept swerving closer to use with each turn so I punched the horn and honked the hell out of ’em. Nearly forced us into the barrier. Jimmy was in the passenger. Our aunt Kelly preffered the backseat with charlie. He was swell little pup–was to be a birthday gift for the nephew. But anyway, Jimmy started hollaring:

“Just slow down and wait for the douche to pass.”

“No way,” I affirmed, “I’m not letting this guy get ahead just ’cause he wants to. I follow the rules why-why can’t he, huh?”

“Sis, take a deep breath. We’ll make it to the party on time. Better safe than sorry,”–

“Sorry my ass! That fucker ain’t getting away with this.”

I don’t really remember the rest of the argument but Jimmy wouldn’t back down. Aunt Kelly eventually thought to bud in and said something stupid so I told her to, “Shut up! This is my car–my rules. What makes you think you can,”–

And then Jimmy called me an arragant fuck and that I ought to never talk to aunt Kelly like that, “Because she loves you! Get you’re head out of your ass!”

I think started to shut them out and just listen to Bastille play, ‘Pompeii,’ on the radio. Jimmy asked me to turn it down, so I turned it up. That might be why I didn’t hear the crash happen up ahead.

The nurse told me the report a little after I woke up in the hospital. The truck that tried to get ahead of me was blocking the road for some other dumb fuck, so they decided to speed ahead and fly-by a few others. They hit some minivan off course and then the whole highway turned into a wreck. Jimmy was right, that trucker was a duche. ‘Course, his vehical was largest so he was already pretty safe. I kept looking around the room to find Jimmy or Kelly in the bed next to me, but they weren’t, so I called for a nurse to ask where they were. It took a minute or two for her to spout, “They didn’t make it,” becuase before that she kept coming up with some stupid anology or metaphore to say that they were dead and I don’t like stupid sentimental shit like that- I like things real and punishing. I like the rain to hit my face, not blocked by some goddam unbrella and–and . . . and. *Sniff And now it’s not just my legs and heart that hurts, but my eyes are all red and sore so I can’t see straight. Waiting on my nephew to show up. Every time he sees me he perks up and says, “hey, you pretty thing!” And I smile and hug him tight. I just want to smile, you know?

Wow, Yitzchak – what a sad piece. Thank you so much for sharing it. This sounds like the jump-off for a bigger story of living with everthing that happened. Wow.

A very interesting article, with some excellent advice. I write about death, dying and grief an awful lot, so I thought I’d add my own thoughts on this one – I won’t add a practice as this is going to be too long already (sorry! do skip it if you’re uninterested!). Grief is perhaps the most devastating emotion a person can ever feel, yet no two people ever experience it in the same way, even if they’ve lost the same person, and were both there to witness it happen. They saw the same events, smelled the same things, heard the same things, perhaps even touched the same things, but their individual experiences will have been entirely different. Their reactions will be completely different. In my experience a well written scene about grief has little to do with the details of what is happening – the scene itself, the external senses – and everything to do with the internal. The bizarre way the world is suddenly muffled, as if you were in a soundproof room with the door open a crack. You can just about hear that there’s something being said on the other side of that door, but you can’t understand it, and even if you could you wouldn’t care. Your insides seem to have vanished, leaving nothing but a void within you, and its pulling at you and dragging you in. You can’t breathe, you can’t think, you can’t comprehend what is happening because it’s so unfathomable that you could continue to exist in the world when this person you loved is suddenly absent. Perhaps you cry, perhaps you scream, perhaps you grow so angry you kick the crap out of anyone else who happens to be in that soundproof room with you, but you’re not aware you’re doing it. Not really. It’s all happening to someone else, and you’re kind of watching it happen, but your getting sucked into this awful void, and pulled apart from the inside out, so it’s a little difficult to concentrate. I’ve known people not react at all for days, weeks, sometimes years, then suddenly they start crying and screaming that such and such is dead. It could have happened a month ago, it could have happened a year ago, it doesn’t matter. Grief has no rules. Your body and mind deal with it in whatever way they can, and if they can’t deal with it, if it’s just too much for them to bear, they block it out until they’re capable of handling it, or until something else happens that pushes you so far it all ends up coming out anyway. That’s the kind of grief that leaves people mad. Maybe not forever, maybe only for a little while, but grief can drive you insane. And there are no rules when it comes to insanity. Everyone experiences it in their own way and everyone deals with it in their own way. I’m incredibly sorry to hear of your losses, Ruthanne, but I can very much relate to your need to write through it – although in my case I kept writing because it was the only way to keep myself from going mad. The result of that was my debut novel. It’s perhaps not surprising that the main themes are death, suicide, and grief. That was what I was when I was writing it. It wasn’t what I was feeling, or seeing, or experiencing, it was what I had become, body, heart and soul. I like to think that the only good thing to come out of it is that I at least managed to write a character to whom people can relate, and a character people can understand even if they’ve never actually experienced what she had been through. Her husband had killed himself, she spends the majority of the books suicidal herself due to her grief over his death, and her friends – who were also his friends – are dealing with their own grief at the loss in their own ways. Thank you very much for the tips – I am always looking to improve on writing grief credibly.

Your words are so familiar. Reached in and pulled them out. Let me know about your book. I would like to read. So healing writing the story isn’t !

Thank you, Cristi. The book is available on Amazon, it’s called Chasing Azrael. I’d post a link, but I’m not sure what the policies are on posting links to our own work. Be sure to let me know when yours is finished too, as I’d love to read the full thing.

Well said! What a beautifully honest post. Yes, people do respond to grief in unique ways. My sister and I were both present when our mother passed, yet have dealt with her passing in remarkably different ways. The foundational belief system is challenged especially by death, affirmed for some, found insufficient for some. Writing about grief for a character to experience has given me opportunities to explore different reactions that keep the character’s response true to that character. Your story no doubt expresses the raw emotions of grief for your character and that honesty is what your readers respond to. Congratulations on completing what must have been a difficult work.

Thanks for this, Hazel. I had to cut a lot of it down; there’s so much that the grieving experience which reach outside “normal” everyday life. Everyone’s experience is different, but those things which are part of simple human grief are what make this relatable.

This is based on the characters of the novel I’m working on. The backstory is that he’s a doctor, and he lost his sister and both his parents 7 years ago. The girl he’s mad at is a patient at the hospital who is a Christian, and was injured in an accident.

Jacob placed a death grip on the railing, his palms sweaty. His pounding heart refused to slow its pace, despite his trying to logically calm himself down. How could seven years of struggling have been brought down so easily? He stared down eight stories to the street below, keeping his eyes open as wide as he could to prevent any tears from appearing. He didn’t see the street, though, and he didn’t hear the noise, despite how loud it was in metro Boston. He saw that fateful night, and he heard the phone call.

How long he had struggled to forget it. How many nights he had sat in his cold, lonely apartment, and how many longs days and hours working at the hospital had it taken to get to this point, only to be brought down in an instant, by that girl. That girl. That pious Alyssa Brenton, who thought the whole world was okay. Who didn’t even have the sense to know when she was beaten. You’d think that girl going through so many problems in her own life wouldn’t be so chipper. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but that was what got to him the most. There was no way a person could be so happy, not when he hadn’t even smiled since that tragic night. Why should he have to live through this agony, while she went happily through life like nothing had happened

But things happened. They happened to him. He breathed heavily in and out as the pain started to overtake him, and as he started to fight it. He leaned against the railing, weary. He would give anything to have taken their places. If he had only been there. If he had only told them how much he had loved them. But now, there was nothing. Not even work could distract him from this. There was no point to life, to living another minute. Slowly, he slid his body down the railing and sat against it. If seven years had done nothing to lessen his grief, nothing would. Nothing.

Hi, Reagan! I have to disagree with the idea that you’re not very good at this. 🙂 I found this scene really interesting, and I’m very curious to know more.

Thanks! I’m still learning, and ‘show don’t tell’ has always been something I’ve struggled with. This is from my current WIP, a Christian romance novel. He and the girl he’s thinking about (and hating) fall in love. I’m so glad you liked this scene!

‘whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not unto men’ Reagan http://www.fiction4hisglory.com

Whoa! Good one, Ruthanne. I’m saving this over to my special “writers stuff” file. You could make a good short book out of this material. Serendipitously, not 20 minutes ago I posted a piece about sorrow on my blog. But yours is seriously comprehensive. Pardon me while I check out your website.

Thanks, PJ! I’m really trying to share the things I’ve learned, and if any of it is helping others, then I call it a success. 🙂

My Mother Betty was like all others moms but the type of family living through my fathers harsh and abusive ways for all of my child hood , and everything mom took from her Husband was so horrific from the Alcohol and the beatings and the molestation she new dad with her own daughters and nothing she could do , father had gotten away with all of his ruthless ways on her seven children, and mom still stayed with her Husband.

But through all these years of fear ,I was so scared to even tell the truth or even tell a lie

so while I was being Molested by 12 Different men till I was old enough to run away from all of the above, I headed to the streets of Toronto Ontario trying to find love of some kind from someone,

My mind was full of distorted ways I could not even be a normal Teenager like others ,could not Communicate to any normal person , but on the streets everyone understood me just like my Mother, she would always tell me how Special I really was and mom also told me its not how many that Love you Robbie it is who Loves you, I could never Understand this until 55 years Later.

My mother took ill and I would take the Greyhound every weekend to see my mother at the Hospital and then she was sent home because Cancer set in , My mother suffered for 5 years , but one day I got a call mom is worse , I had no Money at this time so I decide to start walking from London to Brantford Ontario.

I proceed to walk on the 401 and walked all the way to Brantford and took me 17 hours to get to moms house, when I went in she grab my little face with two hands and tells me Robbie i love you so much , I see in her eyes like never before and she past away soon after , I watched her last breath with my father and that was it,

I could not even cry but loved her so dearly as we all did, but as I had to go back home I was given bus fare to get the greyhound back home , I sat on the bus and the tears came rolling down all the way to London , and for some reason I found peace I never ever Felt , I just hope you all understand this in some way Thanks

Wow, Robert. I can’t even begin to understand what this must have been like. Thank you for sharing such a painful, vulnerable piece.

This is intriguing, and now bookmarked. My main character, Carter Blake, has one more stage of grief when his beloved is killed: The unleashing of his Super-Powered Evil Side ( http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SuperpoweredEvilSide ). That comes first and is the main driver of the sequel, Rise of the DarkWalker: The Chronicles of Carter Blake, Book II .

However, once the SPES is conquered, I’m gonna need these tips for the rest of the story. Thank you.

I wanted to try this one again. I got lost in my first attempt and didn’t follow the advice of the blog.

Now when Ruth walked the beach, the once-soft sand that cushioned her feet and squeezed through her toes felt hard; she could feel each little grain of sand attempt to slice through her skin. The sea’s breezes no longer made her feel refreshed, but punched her in the face and gut. Her once-proud gait was now slumped and slow; Ruth left long, shallow ditches behind her as she dragged along the beach.

Ruth’s beach walks were getting longer and longer as she tried to force herself to keep moving ahead. But she never got very far. She felt she was searching for something and hoped she might walk out of this nightmare back to the world she once knew when she walked the beach with Chloe. But whenever thoughts of Chloe entered her mind she began walking faster, pushing more and more sand behind. “She’s here,” she thought. “Just a few more steps.” And then would come the inevitable realization that she could never walk backwards, to the past. Then would come the inevitable collapse into the sand, her chest heaving, her wails deep and long.

She lost it all when she lost Chloe. She was no longer a mother, father, teacher, life-coach, friend. Now she was simply a repository for scattered memories that were too painful to relive for very long.

On a bright, sunny day, a little boy saw Ruth shuffling along the beach. He approached Ruth.

“Are you looking for something?”

Ruth looked at the little boy, his innocence evident in his open, shining smile. She wondered how to make the little boy leave her alone without being mean.

After a while Ruth answered. “Yes, I’m looking for something.”

The little boy looked up at Ruth, shielding his freckled face from the sun. “Is it your smile? My Aunt Dot said that when my mommy died, she lost her smile.”

Ruth looked out to sea, fighting desperately to stifle a scream churning up inside her.

Finally Ruth looked back to the little boy. “Yes, that’s what I’m looking for…my smile.”

“I’ll help you look.”

The little boy took Ruth’s hand.

Ruth’s throat tightened and she was unable to speak. She didn’t have enough heart remaining to have it ripped open again.

But the little boy gave a tug on Ruth’s hand, and Ruth began moving forward, putting one foot ahead of the other.

A good story of showing and not telling grief. I felt I was walking along the beach with Ruth. The end is perfect, of the little boy offering to help Ruth find her smile and taking her hand to lead her. Thanks for sharing.

Okay, now I’m reaching for tissue. So innocent this little boy. Going through my own grief myself this touched me deeply- wise beyond his years this one. Love reading pieces like this.

I love your use of imagery, great showing, not telling! Great story!

Wow, what a powerful scene! This really moved me. Thank you for sharing it!

Dear Ruthanne, this is a fabulous post. I ‘ll bookmark it right away to read over and over of the ways of ‘showing’ not ‘telling’ about grief. I’m writing a true story of a couple who immigrated to America. Your article comes in handy to help me ‘show’ the grief they encountered. Thank you so much.

Yes, the grieving of leaving everything behind. That has to be huge. Then to come to a country where people often don’t even know their neighbors? Whew, wouldn’t wish that on anybody. Though, of course, it happens all the time. Sherrie Do you know a/b my debut novel “Secrets & Lies in El Salvador”? A young American woman goes to war-torn El Salvador: http://tinyurl.com/klxbt4y

Thanks for your comment, Sherpeace. I’m looking up your novel as soon as I post this. If a person is forced to immigrate, he/she will not integrate fully. If a person chooses to immigrate, I think they will eventually fit into the new country and enjoy it.

Thanks, Lilian! That sounds like a really solid use of this. Wow – to have left everything behind, even one’s native tongue… wow. That’s a lot of grief.

I re-posted this on A Page A Day https://www.facebook.com/pages/A-Page-A-Day-Lets-all-write-just-one-page-a-day/103970129720405?fref=ts I can’t imagine what you went through but I do know that losing my mother-in-law, then my mother made my novel much richer. Since my protagonist was encountering death at ever turn, the deaths in the novel were better understood and felt by the protagonist. Sherrie Do you know a/b my debut novel “Secrets & Lies in El Salvador”? A young American woman goes to war-torn El Salvador: http://tinyurl.com/klxbt4y

Wow, I didn’t know about your novel! Thank you for sharing it, Sherrie. I don’t think anyone can understand grief until they’ve been there, but eventually, everyone DOES get to that place. It means this is important to write about. Thanks for sharing!

It’s actually quite intressting how you mentioned the forgetting the person point. In the story I’m planning, a character actually went through that. I was somehow worried it didn’t sound realistic or anything, but thanks!

You’re welcome, Aala!

I myself have experienced grief a few times with my dad and more recently my grandad – I suppose that’s one of the main reasons why my character has a minor storyline that revolves around her parents and the “replacement dad” she had as a teenager. But the grief that she has to go through in the main story is over a man that she was going to marry. I tried writing what it would be like for her, but I just don’t think I’m ready to go there, yet :/

I hear you, Forth’Wyn. Take your time. The story takes shape at the pace it needs to.

My father was from the first world war he was a gunner there was a self portrait of him a painted photograph that was sitting on the mantle piece I was cherished where I was seated there was always a reminder of him I missed the fact that there wasnt any attachment any more like sending me to school no more talks or any love . I had hunger pains in my gut and thirsted of the horrors he must have gone through when he was at war it made me sick to the stomach of how the man would have felt I wished that I could have said more when he was alive the guilt I felt at this moment time ticked on and on 15 years had passed since he died it was another hour that passed as I was getting tired for a afternoon nap I lay rested and realised that there was nobody to put me in bed

I especially like the very physical responses to grief. “…hunger pains in my gut…” The last line is especially poignant.

That’s powerful, Kim. Thank you for sharing such brutal and powerful thoughts.

Great article! I especially love the questions. They really help me identify the core issue for several characters in my works in progress. This particular practice is a early teen boy protag who has lost, not a person, but his way of life.

This place stinks. The cows stink. The chickens stink. The pigs stink. I am not one of the farm kids. I did not grow up on a farm. Never touched a cow. Never drove a tractor. Just because I’m here now, that doesn’t change anything. It’s temporary. Soon as Grandpa is better, we’ll go home. There’s no place to even walk to around here. No basketball court, no theater, no arcade games, no stores, no friends. There’s nothing but pasture fields surrounded by trees and narrow roads that lead to more farms, and snotty, stinking cows behind every fence. Even the school is dumb.

I’m so glad to hear that, Cathy! I can feel this kikd’s frustration. What a rough spot for your protagonist to be in!

Within 6 months time my brother’s wife died (on my anniversary) then my job was lost due to a merger, then my oldest son died in a fall at my home, and on the same day as my son’s death, another brother’s wife died. Although I didn’t write about my grief, I read countless other books about other peoples losses. As I digested the words about their great grief; their pain reflected my own pain. As their sorrow flowed across the page, I joined my hands and heart to them. Yes, we cried together. My tears wet the pages with such a deep ache for them and for myself. I was truly grateful for authors who shared their pain, which helped me to feel, cry and slowly come out of the darkness and into the light.

Oh, Marilyn; my heart aches for you. I can’t agree enough on the power of *grieving together* with others through their own written story. I hope someday you can write about your experiences, helping others to weep, too.

Did I never know pain before this moment?

Nothing can compare the hole that is within my chest right now. Not after everything that vile monster tried to do to me, the years of humiliation, fear and disgust. Not even after Marco and I discovered the truth behind my actual birth. Not even after I realized how much years I’ve lost, the pain I endured all to please the ego and pockets of a man who thought it was his god-given right to toy with my life.

Agony doesn’t drown you. It burns the internal core of who you are. It leaves nothing but ashes, not even broken pieces to help you piece something of yourself together. I didn’t lie there quietly as he died. I clutched his hand and begged to whoever, whatever I could ask. Doctors and nurses left the room, unable to watch the scene unfolding before them.

For the first time in my life I truly prayed to whatever higher being there was, because at this point I was so desperate. I prayed to whatever, bargaining my soul. I was ready to give up anything, my limbs, my eyes, my hearing, my own life just to give Marco another chance. From begging to bargaining, to complete threats I literally swore to myself that when I met God I’d punch him was because of the lie God told us he was, that he was so ‘almighty’ but at this moment when I can promise you, he could hear me right now and chose to do nothing.

What was worse was the silence that greeted me. The inevitable knowledge that you are going to be separated from someone you loved. That no amount of praying, begging or bargaining was going to keep them from leaving you. I wonder if this was what it felt like to have your soul ripped out while you were still alive. Physical pain cannot compare to emotional pain because at least you can see the wounds, assess and take painkillers, escape to some sort of high. But emotional pain is when you are killing yourself, and is inescapable.

Because agony doesn’t make you just cry. It makes you scream, and I swear the screams left me sounded so terrible that it seemed unreal. It wasn’t a small, feminine scream or moan. It was the animalistic, gut-wrenching roar that left my throat. The scream that you make when you feel as though you lost everything. That was what it felt like. A long, antagonized, never ending scream of grief that no words could ever describe.

My only light was extinguished from the world.

Oh, Salwa! This is written so well. I find myself weeping along with it; the desperation and pain are shown exceedingly well, and I find it impossible not to relate and empathize. Thank you for sharing this.

Thanks for the comment Ruthanne. Looking back at this after two months I do feel a bit mortified, it seemed a bit melodramatic, no?

Thank you for this blog and for the opportunity to learn and share.

Thank you for writing such an inspiring article, both from a writer’s point of view and person!

Hello, Ruthanne Reid, you have well described about grief. And we have described about stages of grief ( https://thewellnesscorner.com/Article/StayHappy/Seven-stages-of-grief ). All individuals dealing with loss go through these stages, not necessarily in the same order.

This is SO helpful! Thank you so much.

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How to understand your grief through writing

Professor in Creative Writing, Associate Dean, Research and University Governor, Liverpool John Moores University

Disclosure statement

Catherine Cole does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Liverpool John Moores University provides funding as a member of The Conversation UK.

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“Bereavement is a universal and integral part of our experience of love”, CS Lewis wrote in A Grief Observed (1966) and no time of year offers a greater sense of this than Christmas, with its traditions and jollity and its focus on family and friends. Losing a family member at such a time can bring with it an added level of grief. From then on, Christmas is coloured with their loss.

This makes subsequent Christmases particularly fraught. Walking into a brightly lit and decorated shop, with Christmas carols on a loop, can be an emotional minefield; a cruel reminder of a joy from which you now feel excluded.

When my father was dying in hospital at Christmas a few decades ago, I was struck by how kindly the staff had decorated his ward. There was a tree and most of the beds were decked with tinsel. Staff wore Santa hats and offered visitors mince pies and Christmas cake. Despite their efforts, it was very bleak. Never had Christmas jollity seemed so hollow.

As a writer I also found myself gathering these contradictory moments of joy and sorrow for future reference. It seemed a logical approach. Managing the awful realisation that my father had only days left, meant also observing everything closely – the way the tinsel moved with the ward’s heating, the presents we opened with my father even though he was unconscious and unable to enjoy them.

This sense of letting someone go while the rest of the world was partying was both horrible and, yet, creative. I decided that this scene would at some point find its way into a future novel or story. Managing grief in this creative way is not unusual and is healthy, according to the Harvard Medical School who suggest that “disclosing deep emotions through writing can boost immune function as well as mood and wellbeing”.

I also think that we write to understand and to convey that understanding to our readers. “It is when faced with death that we turn most bookish”, French author Jules Renard wrote in 1925, and not much has changed since then – well, certainly not for me anyway. But people, like me, who love reading search for meaning in books and we also seek to understand our own emotional journey through grief by writing about it.

Writing grief

But writing your grief requires a specific kind of skill.

When writing from raw emotion it’s best not to self-censor or over fret about the work’s quality; not initially anyway. Getting your emotions down on the page is a good way to assuage your grief because it requires courage and honesty to pay homage to a lost loved one and also to your personal loss.

The writer Joan Didion fearlessly chronicled her grief at the loss of her family in books like The Year of Magical Thinking and Blue Nights , though not everyone is comfortable reading them. The Australian reviewer, Andrew Reimer, wrote of how he felt like “an intruder into a very private sorrow” after reading Didion’s Blue Night.

Reading or writing about grief is not for the faint-hearted. Like all writing, it’s best not to edit too early. Let the work rest and come back to it when ready. Save that first raw draft and create a new version when you feel you’ve moved on to another, more objective stage.

Edit it slowly, allowing the meaning to rise while removing anything that no longer feels right. Use photo prompts to inspire reflection and memorialising. Think too of those small details – a swathe of tinsel moving in time with a respirator or a carol on an audio loop.

The right time

A decade after my father’s death, each Christmas afterwards transformed into something joyous but melancholy, rich with family and friends but also the absence of him. At that point, I wrote the poem below. The time seemed right:

A birth, a death

We remember you when the Christmas lights are hung, bright globules of optimism against the early dark, and shop windows fill with reindeers, elves, beribboned boxes. Your hospital celebrated Christmas too, the coloured lights strung between ward stations, drips and defibrillators. The nurses made a good show of it, though you were too far gone for presents so we opened yours for you. We celebrate a new life while remembering the end of yours, tinsel bright, star light. When Christmas is over you linger, of course, into the new year, then Easter, mid-summer, and in the falling of the leaves, as you must, whatever the season.

The creative writing academic, Brooke Davis, wrote : “Grief is not neat like a narrative arc. It does not end; it is not ‘resolved’. It does not follow a checklist of emotions from beginning to end. It is not one thing, or the other thing; it is lots of things.”

That seems the way to approach both the emotion and the art that comes from it.

It’s a season of storytelling and memories. Whatever we do at Christmas, we share it with the living and the dead. Grief and happiness are perfect creative partners in bringing us back together.

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The Grief Scale

Weighing heartache while traveling home from caring for a friend

“I SEE WE HAVE A BIN HOG HERE.”

“A what?” I asked, tugging my carry-on from the plane’s overhead compartment.

“A bin hog.” The woman stood behind me, waiting to de-plane. I dropped my heavy roller bag into the aisle and wished I had a clever comeback. Something smart and maybe a little bit mean. But I’ve always been too slow to deliver wit.

Instead I said, “That’s a very unkind thing to say,” and wheeled my bag to the jetway. That’s when my eyes went hot. My throat constricted, and the world went blurry. There was no way I was going to let a bully in an ugly pink sweater set see me cry, so when I reached the line for the terminal escalator, I picked up my overstuffed bag and ran down the stairs instead.

Being called a bin hog would not normally make me cry. Not even if I was tired, which, in fact, I was. Or sick or hungover, which I wasn’t. In fact, I’ve been called a lot worse by both strangers and even people I love. But I had just come from a week of taking care of a very sick friend, and suddenly I felt everything—all the tears and tightness of throat, all the sadness simmering at the surface. The veil that had barely covered it all week was finally slipping off.

During my layover in Houston, I stood in a corner near airport security, and I cried. I faced the oncoming passengers, who were busy putting back on their belts and shoes, stuffing laptops back into their cases. I wondered if a sobbing woman would be deemed a threat to airport security.

I later learned airports have an actual “cry room,” though I don’t think they really call it that. My friend Kim made use of one on her way to a funeral. If you think about it, an airport cry room makes a lot of sense. We pass through airports before, or during, some of our most difficult moments—on our way to, or from, visiting a sick loved one. Or going to a funeral. Or coming home without a father.

The way we recognize a musical score—by its scales, the repeating notes—is similar to the way we recall grief. A musical score can transport us to another time and place, as if the music has always lived inside us; in the same way, one grief recalls another.

I was in the Denver airport when I found out that my father died. I had known he was really sick this time, because my usually stoic mother, who had until then told me not to come home, finally said, “You’d better come now.”

I was waitressing at a Mexican restaurant in Colorado, which helped support my life as a ski bum. It was a busy night—an hour wait for a table—and it did not occur to me to leave work early. Not even if my father had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. I was twenty-four.

After my shift, I drove home in a snowstorm and called the airline to book a flight. My boyfriend drove me to the airport. It did not occur to him to cancel the private ski lesson he was to teach the next day so he could go with me. “They’re important clients,” he said. I nodded. Probably even agreed.

But at security, I was delayed because I had worn my overalls, a staple in my wardrobe at the time. If I wasn’t wearing a waitress or ski school uniform, I was wearing baggy jean overalls, which now makes me wonder how I ever got a boyfriend. The overalls were decorated with metal buttons and latches, and when I went through the X-ray machine, I lit up like a Christmas tree. The woman called me over and scanned me with her angry, buzzing wand.

“It’s my buttons,” I said and started to cry. “I’m going to miss my flight.”

“It’s not my fault you’re late. You should have planned better.”

It did not occur to me to tell her my father was dying. That missing my flight would mean I wasn’t going to be able to say goodbye. I just stood there, red-faced, flushed hot with anger and sadness. Her wand buzzed over every metal button and clasp.

I ran to the gate, pulling my suitcase behind me, but they had just shut the doors, and as everyone knows, once they shut that gate, the plane is as good as gone. Still, I begged. The woman behind the counter told me there was nothing she could do. There would be another flight to Los Angeles in three hours, and I could fly standby. She said she thought there might be a seat.

I walked to the pay phone to leave a message at my mother’s house. I wouldn’t arrive until morning. I tried my sister, but she wasn’t home either. I left messages on answering machines. I looked out the airport windows for a long while, watching the plane take off into a sky that turned from black to purple, pink to pale blue.

I went back to the pay phone and called the hospital. I was transferred twice. Each time, I managed the words: “I’m calling for a patient, Paul Roberts.”

After the third transfer, an unfamiliar voice came on and asked, “Are you his other daughter?”

“Yes. How is he?”

“Where are you?” “The airport. I missed my flight, but I board soon. I’ll be there in a couple of hours. How is he?”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.” I didn’t need to ask her how he was doing again. I knew. But the knowing also came with disbelief—the human mind can hold both at the same time, the knowing and the rejection of that knowing. But it’s more complicated than denial. It isn’t exactly a rejection of knowledge—just the ability to hold it with its opposite in the mind at the very same time.

My mouth seemed to move, words coming out without any real connection to me. I felt outside of myself, watching from somewhere else, as I said, “He died, didn’t he?” My voice, a squeak. I wanted to say the words so she didn’t have to. To make it easier on this stranger, this person who had possibly attended to my father’s dying.

The voice on the phone said, “I’m so sorry. Are you OK? Is anyone with you?”

“I’m fine. I’m OK.” But I was in full cry.

The gate agent who had told me I hadn’t made it onto the last plane looked over at me from behind her desk. Everyone else was trying not to stare at me, keeping extra busy, which made me feel better and worse all at the same time.

“Tell my sister I know,” I said. “That way when she picks me up from the airport, she doesn’t have to tell me. So she doesn’t worry about telling me

“Are you sure you’re OK?”

The gate agent announced that the plane was boarding. “I have to go,” I managed to say and hung up. I sobbed as quietly as possible, waiting for my group to be called.

The woman at the counter waved me over. “I noticed you may have gotten some bad news.”

“Your boarding pass?” she asked. I nodded again and handed it to her.

She looked at it, ripped it up, and handed me another one.

“This seat’s in the back, but there’s no one next to you.”

“Is it a window?” Because I’m afraid of flying, I need to stare at the wing if the plane encounters turbulence, as if my gaze will hold the plane in the air. This has been my flying ritual for as long as I remember. Yet, if my father really had died, which I still wasn’t sure I believed, would the universe really kill us both in one day? Regardless of the laws of separate probabilities and chance, I concluded that this was not possible—my own strange and private logic that sometimes helps, sometimes doesn’t.

“It’s a window.”

“Thanks,” I managed. I couldn’t think too much about this kindness because sometimes it’s the kindnesses that make you cry, even more than the nastiness. Or maybe it’s the juxtaposition of the two.

Lining up, finding my seat, and putting my bag in the overhead bin came as a relief. I had something to do. And I knew when each action was complete. As the gate agent had promised, the middle seat remained unoccupied. I leaned toward the window and watched the mountains of Colorado recede, the glaring blue winter sky, the wavering silver airplane wing.

This was back when the airlines provided meals, even on a two-hour flight. The flight attendant offered me breakfast, but I waved it away.

“I’ll have yours,” the woman next to me said, so I accepted the food and then handed it over.

“Are you sick, honey?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “just sad.”

I nodded and she nodded, and then she made quick work of her two meals. Usually, I feel like I have to explain myself to anyone who asks, strangers included, but I couldn’t do it, so I just left it at that and went back to wing watching. I tried to picture my father’s spirit, floating among the wispy clouds, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t see him as a ghost any more than I could imagine him dead. And then wild thoughts arrived: maybe someone had made a mistake! It’s been known to happen in hospitals. Maybe it wasn’t my father who died but some other man! It couldn’t be true that I would never see my father again. My mind would not concede this possibility.

All life leads to death, so why is it so very hard to imagine? The world is made up of the things we know. How can we go on without all of them arranged around us? Sometimes we can’t, but we must.

The plane landed, and I walked toward the exit, hoping my sister had gotten the message.

She was standing with her boyfriend, and they were both wearing black sunglasses. She hugged me, and I said, “I already know. You don’t have to tell me.”

She nodded.

We loaded into my sister’s baby blue convertible Mustang and headed for the 405. The Southern California sunshine glimmered off the oil-streaked freeway. It was 9 a.m. and already eighty degrees. I took off my jacket and sweater. We rode with the top down, and my hair struggled against the wind. We looked like a family on the way to a picnic or the beach. Like everything was fine. The line between joy and grief incidental.

I hadn’t meant to write about this. I sat down intending to write about my sick friend and how hard it was to be there with her, unable to make any difference in whether she would get better or not. Driving with her in the rain to see the doctor in the sprawling Florida cancer hospital. How when I left her and landed at the Houston airport, I lost my shit because of everyday cruelties. Because people don’t know what you’re going through. Because I have pushed past someone on my way somewhere, been rude to telemarketers, cut people off in traffic without knowing anything about them, about what they are going through. I wanted this to be about how we should always be kind because the person we are unkind to might have spent a week sleeping on a couch with two cats she is allergic to, waking up to clean out their litter boxes; she might have sat next to her sick friend in the slanted light of the rainy afternoons, watching her sleep. She might be worn thin by hope.

To try to make sense of grief, we put it on other scales—the kind that measure its weight. Maybe this is so we can one-up each other in the game of our own unhappiness? The workplace, for example, measures grief by days off. I can take off three days for a parent or spouse. Two days for a grandparent, but only if I have to travel. I took the days off for my British grandmother. I figured she would want me to even if it wasn’t enough time to get to England and back. But our emotional attachments cannot be quantified by how direct our bloodlines are to those who have died. I have known people who said that losing a dog was worse than losing their mother. When my favorite dog, Riva, died, I wailed into the furry cuff of her neck, collapsed on the floor of my kitchen. Even so, it was nothing like losing a father, at least not for me. But even my dog’s death brought me back again to my father, that familiar pool, dark and deep.

Grief is like water—all water is wet. And each new sadness dips into the well of the rest, carrying the old grief with the new. That said, it’s one thing to wade into a small pool of grief, and another thing entirely to drown. But water is water, and each drop adds up to become an ocean. I have another friend who says grief used to be one room in the house until she and her husband lost their son. Then, grief was the only room.

I cannot access grief without metaphor, a way to measure the unmeasurable. You’d think we would have gotten used to it by now—this living and dying—but we haven’t.

In my memory, my sister and I didn’t talk to each other on the car ride home. When my sister and her boyfriend dropped me off, I walked into the dark house, where my mother and my oldest sister were trying to sleep. My childhood bedroom was free, so I lay on my bed, and I stared at the popcorn ceiling. I remember thinking it reminded me of sea foam. I felt tired but couldn’t sleep. I could hear the pounding of my heart in my ear, so I turned onto my side and put my ear on the edge of the pillow, a trick my father had taught me. “It’s so you can forget the beating of your heart.” I felt curious about the details of my father’s death but didn’t have the courage to ask. I felt the creep of guilt for not being there, a shadow that would stay over me for the rest of my life. Or at least until now, twenty years later.

I lay there in my childhood bed until I heard the rest of my family rustle. Then we looked through the house for a letter. Though Daddy didn’t kill himself, he knew he was dying, and I was sure he had left some sort of message for us—his daughters. Something that would make us feel better. I searched drawers, filing cabinets, cupboards. I came back with a couple of bottles of whiskey and a carton of cigarettes, his hidden contraband.

Later, I found out that my sisters had already stumbled across another stash of his hooch, and when they got back from the hospital early that morning, they each poured themselves a shot and drank to Daddy. I wished I had been there. I was glad I wasn’t. I couldn’t decide. I still can’t.

My mother told me he had hung on, but they were all telling him to go. Then she told him I had arrived, that I was there, and he died. “He was waiting for you,” she said. “He wouldn’t die until you got there.” She said this as if it would make me feel better. This lie. This cruelty. This kindness.

“But I didn’t get there. Why did you tell him I was there?”

“Suzanne, you don’t know how hard it was to see him like that. You would understand if you had been there.”

“But I wasn’t there.”

“You’re missing the point, I think. You’re just tired.”

Whenever I say or do or feel differently than my mother would like, she makes an excuse for me: you’re sick, you’re upset, you’re tired, you’re drunk, you’ve misunderstood, you’re just in a bad mood.

I wasn’t there, and he must have known it, didn’t he? The wild thoughts took over again: if she hadn’t told him, would he have still been alive in the morning when I got there?

But he didn’t hear my mother, wasn’t conscious for that, my sisters insist. And there is this: Daddy sent them out of the room before he lost consciousness. Only my mother was allowed to stay. Would I have been asked to leave with my sisters? Why wouldn’t I? Still, the mind won’t accept it.I go on without knowing.

My sisters have always told me I was lucky I wasn’t there, how terrible it was to be sent out of the room and then to see his sunken, ashen face at the end. But I now remember so little of my father; his voice has faded. Aside from whiskey, cigarettes, and Old Spice, I can’t conjure a smell. At least I would have that—a picture, as awful as it was.

And maybe I wouldn’t dream him alive only to watch him die. In my dream, I find out my father has really been alive all these years: my mother has been lying to me. But by the time I realize he isn’t dead, it’s too late. He is dying. This is my reoccurring dream, even now, after all these years. Rather than see him die once, I have seen him die countless times in dreamscape.

I’d meant to say something about kindness, too, and its opposite, which is more often heartlessness than meanness. But maybe that’s its connection to the all-too-full-of-heart grief. Without love, there is no grief. So we hang our hearts on hope, the scales of that old song playing again. The music never really disappears—even when we refuse to listen.

Soon after I returned home, my sick friend went into remission, and we laughed about the bin-hog lady from the airplane, thinking up witty comebacks. My friend is better at this than I am: “I guess pigs really do fly!” “At least I’m just a bin-hog, whereas you’re a hog!” “Lady, you’ve just become a character in my next story.”

I’d also meant to talk about the man with the hole in his throat and the shining heads of beautiful young women, and the piano that played itself in the lobby of the Florida hospital. The crude crimson scrawl through the word cancer on the kind doctor’s nametag—like a child’s red crayon crossing out a mistake. The pharmacy with the row of IV bags hanging from the ceiling like a plastic chandelier. I had meant to write the new, horrifying words now in my lexicon: PET scans and ports, lesions and bone strengtheners, flare responses and fentanyl lollipops.

And I had also meant to say something about the green smell of rain and the blue herons walking along the marsh on their elegant legs. Something about how the gray sky fell onto the windshield of the car and about the way the wipers pushed the water away, the window clearing just long enough so we could make out the highway before us.

Creative Writing About Loss

Let’s Talk About Loss runs a creative writing group, a place for 18-35 year olds to share their writing, be it poetry, fiction, non fiction or something different, all to do with loss. No prior writing experience needed! 

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Using creative writing to unlock grief

Carly is Founding Director of The Loss Project. Here, she shares how creative writing can help us process and understand our grief.

By Carly Attridge · April 1, 2021

At  The Loss Project , creativity is a vital tool in our work of being alongside people who are experiencing grief and loss. We have seen it’s importance in holding space for people to process how they are feeling, unlocking memories and as a way to express feelings and emotion that can be hidden away under lock and key, or that we feel we can’t share in case we embarrass or upset anybody.

Creativity can evoke a lot of feelings for people; often there is resistance and a feeling of “oh I am not creative”, or that what we’ve made “isn’t not good enough”. There are many of us who do not think that we are creative and struggle to put pen to paper. Rather than focusing on enjoying the process we tend to think about the outcome. However, during the pandemic creativity and play seems to be becoming more popular as it has given us more space and time to unleash our playful side.

Personally, I really love to write (so maybe I’m a bit biased) I use  Julia Cameron’s morning pages  and free write every morning. Recently, I’ve found writing letters really helpful. I’m never going to send them but it helps me to organise my thoughts, discover things about myself I hadn’t realised and process difficult feelings that I find difficult to address. I find expressive writing a really helpful tool in my life. Creative writing can sometimes be a softer way into writing if our grief is feeling raw and painful, offering us a world of metaphors and imagination that can help us find new ways of expressing what we’re going through.

Writing can help us process and understand our grief

Last year The Loss Project ran a series of creative writing workshops with artist, writer and poet Joe Duggan. Joe is inspired by his own experiences of bereavement and uses writing to be with others experiencing bereavement. He used simple writing structures to encourage people to express themselves using poetry. A participant told us:

The way I think about my loss is less of a loss and more of a connection with an absence. This gave me a chance to catch on to memories and bring them to life again.

Finding outlets for our grief following a bereavement can be a powerful way of supporting ourselves, processing and finding meaning making. However, it also provides a way for us to connect with each other both through the process of creating something in a group setting but also by connecting with others who understand how difficult and painful grief can be. One participant told us:

I'd like to hold onto the fact that grief can be something that we share. Every story someone's told has made me think about my own situation. It's helpful to remember that other people share grief. It's very cathartic to actually speak those difficult things.

We are told consistently just how difficult the bereaved find talking to the non-bereaved. A sense of the topic being avoided, of not being able to show emotions, or if you’re “fine” then people assume you’re over it and move on, let alone the avoidance tactics that many people experience because people don’t know what to do and say. This opportunity to find connection through creativity is really important.

Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.

Getting started

The great thing about getting started with writing is that you do not need any fancy kit to do it. A paper and pen is enough to get you going and just try. Writing the first words can be really hard, but creating yourself a space where you feel comfortable and confident and just giving it a go. Like everything, these things take practice so it might take a little while until you feel confident. Whilst at The Loss Project a lot of our work is about encouraging connection with others, writing does not have to be something that’s done in a facilitated group workshop.

There are many options for journaling available via the internet, and sometimes just spending some time free writing can be just as powerful and illuminating in helping us to order what is going for us and noticing what we are thinking and how we are feeling. There are many methods and ways to do it, and you might need to try a few out to see what works for you. We’ve put together a few ideas to get you started, and you can download our Journaling Prompts from our website.

Another of our partners Well Versed Inc put together a structure to help you if you’d like to try something a bit more creative. An epistle poem is a poem in the form of a letter. They provide two structures for you to write a letter to your loved one, and to write a response from them to you. Perhaps you want to say something that was left unsaid, perhaps you want to thank them for something that inspired you, or some fond memories? Using simple structures and forms that are familiar to us can often be a really lovely way of helping us into the process. The key thing to remember is there is no judgement here, you don’t have to share them with others, although you can if you want to.

We’d love to hear from you if you’ve enjoyed writing, have created your own Epistle poem, or if you’d be interested in attending creative writing workshops with us in the future. You can find out more about The Loss Project  on our website  and sign up for our latest news and up and coming events.  Download the Journal Prompts or Epistle Poem Structure .

You can also connect with us on most social media platforms @thelossproject1. We also host free monthly sessions called Spoon Rooms. They are spaces where you can come and connect with others around grief, loss and bereavement. The spoons are just a bit of fun that act as a talking stick, but really they are just safe, friendly and welcoming spaces to be alongside others.

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Sometimes dealing with grief on our own can feel like we’re alone. Writing about loss, death, sadness, and grief can feel intimidating because we’re excavating our deepest vulnerabilities, and this means confronting buried emotions. It might be difficult to process the wide range of emotions that accompany loss—everything from sadness to anger to relief. However, finding a place to allow these feelings to land can be liberating—not only for one’s writing, but also cathartic personally.

In this personal essay course, we will learn how to tell the stories that impact us the most through creative writing about grief, pain, and loss. The objective of this course is to mine our feelings of loss and try to capture them onto the page. This course will give participants the permission and tools to become more comfortable about writing death and loss. Through the course of eight weeks, we will read other writers and their essays on the subject of loss, death, and grief, and delve into the stories that individual participants would like to explore.

Students will receive feedback on short writing exercises based on prompts, as well as the chance to workshop an essay with the instructor during the class. Participants will leave this class learning how to tackle death, loss, grief in the space of a personal essay. Students will learn how to make the personal universal. There will be also class discussion on the materials. Students will receive extensive feedback on two essays during the 8-week period.

I highly suggest this class, so much so, I’m gifting it to a friend. Don’t hesitate. Take this class! —Linda Ragsdale

Weekly Zoom Meeting Schedule

The course’s weekly Zoom meetings will take place  on Wednesdays at 7:00 PM Eastern time.  Meetings will be one hour to 90 minutes in length.

Creative Writing About Grief: Course Syllabus

Week 1: welcome and introductions/why write nonfiction essays stemming from loss or tragedy.

How do past journal or diary entries help you excavate the grief you’d like to write about in your essay? Work on in-class writing prompt on three pivotal moments that seem compelling for you to excavate in an essay.

Week 2: Different ways to brainstorm our grief to write our best essays.

Writing about grief is often difficult and sometimes it takes work to pen our most difficult feelings. In this session, students will learn techniques re: brainstorming on their essay topic. It will include information on mind mapping, traditional outline structure, and using photographs to generate story ideas.

Week 3: How to begin the grief essay?

Knowing where to start the grief essay is important. We will look at various essays and how they begin. How do we engage the reader with the very first sentence of our grief essay?

Week 4: Navigating the middle of our grief essay and the narrative arc.

For an essay to feel genuine to the reader and the writer, the narrative arc has to hit the right points. We will work through the middle of our essays to excavate the tension sometimes the middle poses when writing about grief.

Week 5: Giving ourselves room to breathe when writing grief essays.

Sometimes creative writing about grief raises difficult emotions/feelings. What to do when we feel stuck? How to forge forward as we navigate our emotions and confront sadness and truth in our writing. We will cover strategies on how to handle this grief in a way that will channel our best essay writing and focus on healing too.    

Week 6: Looking at endings in our essays.

Grief is something that doesn’t end and how do we capture that sentiment in our essays? This is tricky terrain, especially as we are trying to navigate our feelings in our endings even though the grief lingers outside the page.  

Week 7: Putting it all together.

How does they essay come across in terms of prose and lyricism? We will look at how the essay is elevated through metaphors and the use of craft.

Week 8: Looking at markets and the feeling after publication of our grief essays.

We will talk publication and markets and whether you’re in the right mental place to publish your essays. How do we navigate the questions that come after readers read our vulnerable pieces on grief?

Why Take a Creative Writing Course with Writers.com?

• We welcome writers of all backgrounds and experience levels, and we are here for one reason: to support you on your writing journey.
• Small groups keep our online writing classes lively and intimate.
• Work through your weekly written lectures, course materials, and writing assignments at your own pace.
• Share and discuss your work with classmates in a supportive class environment.
• Award-winning instructor Rudri Patel will offer you direct, personal feedback and suggestions on every assignment you submit.

Student Feedback for Rudri Patel:

I cannot recommend working with Rudri enough, she is one of the best writing teachers that I have ever had. Leena Trivedi-Grenier

Rudri is genuine and compassionate, sharing her stories and helping students find a way to hold their grief, and release some of its anchors. I highly suggest Writing Our Grief , so much so, I’m gifting it to a friend. Don’t hesitate. Take this class!  Linda Ragsdale

The course exceeded my expectations. Rudri's practical, supportive, and encouraging style is just what I needed to build confidence and practice in my writing. Rudri is exceptionally perceptive, warm, and generous as a teacher. Rudri helps you believe in yourself as a writer and to build long-term habits after the course.  Tom O'Shea

Rudri's teaching style is warm, personal, informed, generous, and comprehensive. She wants her students to have a safe place to dig into their grief and to give written voice to it, to learn the craft of writing about grief with an eye for publication. She challenged us to experiment with new forms, and set the tone for a supportive class partnership. I highly recommend this class.  Dianne King

Rudri created a wonderful workshop atmosphere. I received specific feedback on each of my writing assignments and felt supported and encouraged throughout the six-week course. I'm amazed at how much I learned in this short time period.  Theresa Connors

Rudri is a real gem. Her management of the class given the difficulty of the material was exceptional. She was always encouraging to all the students.  Larry Ricci

Rudri's combination of compassion and solid tangible technique furthered my continuing development as a writer. If you want to take an MFA level class with an instructor who cares enough to guide you kindly but sure-footedly to the edges of your comfort zones---then this class is for you. You will come out on the other side a much improved writer. Christina Cavallaro

Rudri is kind so she reads with her heart as well as her head. As well as providing editorial expertise, she reads with empathy. I found this mattered more than I thought it would. I am so thankful for this course and everything I learned in class and from the community of other writers within the class.  Sarah Harley

Rudri is intelligent and perceptive. Her lectures are well organized but not rigid. She is present to the individual students' needs, and her offering of a one-on-one meeting is the cherry on the cake. She is a very generous teacher, and I would and will certainly recommend her courses and take them again myself.  Barbara Moroncini

A must take course! Our instructor, Rudri Patel, led the course with such brilliance, commitment and sensitivity. Each lesson was well organized. Ms. Patel went above and beyond with weekly zoom classes, and she added her personal experiences as a writer so freely. Cynthia Slack

Rudri has a way of fostering discussion and motivating her students to produce more and better work. By the end of the first week alone, I’d completely revised my daily writing strategy, reduced procrastination, and felt better equipped to achieve some pretty ambitious writing goals. I’m confident that 2021 will be my best writing year to-date.  Jessica Fiorillo

This workshop was everything I wanted and more!  Not only is Rudri an excellent instructor and writer, but she is a wonderful human being. Rudri provided a safe place for everyone to freely express themselves, giving 200% of herself and modeling for students her courage and vulnerability.  Cynthia Bassett

Awesome! Rudri is a great teacher.  Natalie Ellis

This class, and Rudri’s compassion and ability to create a safe space, helped me work through levels of grief that I didn’t realize I still had. I made connections between past and present losses that I hadn’t made before, which has helped me to grieve at a deeper level. My writing has benefited from the exercises and Rudri’s encouragement to write my truth. This was an excellent class, and I hope to work with Rudri again in the future.  Andi Reed

I learned so much in Rudri's class, not just about bullet journaling but about setting goals and establishing habits that nurture and sustain the writing life. Rudri created a welcoming space to discuss not just the ins and outs of bullet journaling, but also how to build habits that nurture creativity and self-care. I highly recommend it for writers and everyone!  Daisy Florin

Rudri Bhatt Patel has been a mentor, coach, and editor for my writing projects for almost ten years. Under the skillful guidance of her expertise, candor, and gentle spirit, I have made great gains in refining and expanding my short stories to publication as well as completing a novel. In addition, as co-members of a critique group for several years, Rudri consistently offered in depth and valuable feedback to me and others on a biweekly basis. Her comprehensive written feedback was always delivered with a sensitivity and respect for each person’s creative expression, while authentically providing insight into strengths and areas that needed development. Trish Dolansinski

Rudri is the editor and teacher everyone wishes they would discover. Her warm engaging style meets spot-on feedback has done more for me in 6 weeks than I can begin to describe. Rudri's approach to giving feedback is supportive in a way that both inspires and lifts while being grounded in solid practical suggestions to help elevate your work.  Christina Cavallaro

I recommend Rudri Bhatt Patel without reservation. She is knowledgeable, articulate and experienced in all things writing and publishing. Her kindness as well as her professionalism and expertise make working with her a delight. Susan Pohlman

Rudri's knowledge and skills related to professional writing have also helped me with my own writing career many times in the past. Julie Vick

Over the past ten years I have had numerous opportunities to interact with Rudri Batt Patel during writing classes, book critiques, and writer networking sessions. She has a profound ability to engage as a learner, presenter, and facilitator. Her own writing skills are exceptional and her variety of published works enable her to assist developing writers in multiple ways. Phyllis Schwartz

Rudri Patel is an organized and seasoned presenter with years of writing and publishing experience. I’ve been lucky enough to have Rudri in my critique circle for over a decade and I’m a stronger writer because of it. Windy Lynn Harris

Rudri has a wonderful way of bringing out the best in her colleagues without criticism - a skill I appreciate as a veteran of the classroom myself. Jenn Morson

“I loved Rudri Patel. She helped me take my writing to another level. She was full of knowledge, encouragement, constructive criticism and quickly identified my strengths. I highly recommend her.” —Nancy Wynn

About Rudri Patel

Rudri Patel is a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at  Literary Mama  and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal,  The Sunlight Press , her essays and reported work have appeared in  The Washington Post, Business Insider, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, ESPN, Parents  and elsewhere. Rudri is currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces.

Rudri's Courses

Six Flash Essays in Six Weeks Writing About Family *Private Class | Writing Our Grief: How to Channel Loss into Creative Expression *Private Class | Using Bullet Journaling to Achieve Writing Goals *Private Class | From Pitch to Publication: Writing Narrative Journalism *Private Class | Write Your World: Express Your Creativity through Article Writing, Blogging, and Essays Writing Our Grief: How to Channel Loss into Creative Expression Using Bullet Journaling to Achieve Writing Goals From Pitch to Publication: Writing Narrative Journalism Write Your World: Express Your Creativity through Article Writing, Blogging, and Essays (Live Workshop) Move Your Writing Forward: The Art of the Bullet Journal

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How grief and creativity work together

Some of our greatest cultural riches are the byproduct of grief: the pyramids at Giza were burial mounds. Homer’s “Iliad” is a tragedy. Christian texts begin with the loss of Eden. From a safe distance, we admire and appreciate the creative fruits grief has harvested over the course of millennia; collectively, humanity owes a whole lot to heartache. But what about when grief confronts us—head on, full force—as individuals?

Loss and creativity are two essential parts of the human experience, and when we experience loss personally, creativity might just be the best way out, says Dr. Shelley Carson , a lecturer at Harvard University and author of “Your Creative Brain, Seven Steps to Maximize Imagination, Productivity, and Innovation in Your Life.” Perhaps the first thing to keep in mind is that everyone has the capacity to be creative. “Some of us just express it more robustly,” Carson says, noting that there are two types of creativity: innovative creativity and expressive creativity. Carson adds that what she calls “innovative creativity” is best suited to problem-solving, while “expressive creativity” can use negative energy and channel it into creative work as a means to assist with loss or trauma. Clinical psychologist Henry Seiden, Ph.D., echoes Carson in his assessment: “Creativity is the essential response to grief.”

Your brain on grief

Research shows that experiencing sadness results in a deactivation of the left prefrontal areas of the brain relative to the right prefrontal areas, Carson says. While the left hemisphere specializes in positive emotions like joy and hope, the right hemisphere dispenses emotions like anxiety. Unsurprisingly, the right hemisphere is more active during periods of grief. Here’s the hitch: “The main problem during grieving seems to be the relative deactivation of the left hemisphere rather than the over-activation of the right hemisphere,” Carson says. So, even if creativity can help to heal and redirect, people don’t always feel like tapping into their creative sides following a loss or trauma—even if (and perhaps especially when) it’s their job. This was the case for Monique Malcolm , a creative coach and entrepreneur whose younger brother died unexpectedly at 26. “Initially, there wasn’t any creativity,” Malcolm says. “I just didn’t feel it anymore.” Not too long afterward, though, she says, a creative burst followed. “There are all these things I want to do creatively, and now’s the time to do it,” she says she remembers thinking. For Malcolm, her brother’s death was a wake-up call: time is precious, and it’s not guaranteed.

Nurturing her creativity was also a method of self-care, Malcolm says. “I had to set my feelings aside so that [my family] could be more OK and more comfortable—and I was angry,” she says. “It made me feel good to do that craft show or trade show or make things because it was something that I fully chose for myself.”

While grief is a natural and unavoidable part of the human experience, there is such a thing as “healthy mourning,” says Dr. Susan Kavaler-Adler , author, theorist, and founder and executive director of the Object Relations Institute for Psychotherapy and Psychoanalysis. In fact, viewing mourning as an opportunity for personal growth can lead to boosted creativity and a renewed sense of purpose, she says. “When you open up mourning from the deep core of the self, not only is it extremely healing but also people can become more authentic and express themselves in a deeper way. They just become more compassionate human beings and can become more compassionate toward themselves—not just others,” she says. “People can be so persecutory toward themselves,” she adds. Moreover, she says, good intentions from others can hijack someone’s grieving process. “Often people are disrupted in their mourning from other people who don’t have an understanding of how long it takes,” she says, noting that although it’s an individual process, a single loss typically requires one year of recovery. Malcolm says she felt a derailment in grieving not only from her family but also at work. “In corporate, you get three days, and you come back, and you need to be fine,” she says. “But you’re not whole anymore.”

This deep sense of loss requires hard work to fill, and while a person may not feel creatively inclined at first, Carson sees grief (and creative work during periods of grief) as an opportunity. “Grief provides some of the low notes of our lives that make it a richer symphony overall,” she says. That symphony might feel dissonant for a while, though. “People can lie down and give up or be energized. It’s really hard to know why some do it one way, some the other—both with perfect ad hoc justification,” Seiden says. Whenever people can rouse creativity, he says, “it’s a gift to be treasured.” Monique Malcolm, a creative coach, and Shelley Carson, Ph.D., agree that there are actionable tips that may help spur creativity during periods of grief. “Resting EEG and fMRI studies do not show a difference in the right-left ratios of creative people versus less creative people,” Carson says. In short, everyone is capable of creativity, whether they’re a photographer or a pharmacist. Malcolm suggests to “take an inventory of yourself.” Then, “figure out the bare minimum you can do that will make you feel OK with the rest of your day.” Some days, this might be nothing, she says. Carson points toward specific activities such as painting, writing, or playing music. If you’re not a trained musician, she suggests the bongos, noting that drumming is a powerful mood regulator. Painters—amateur or otherwise—need only a blank canvas and paints, and those who write can choose poetry, a journal entry, or a short story. Pick an activity, and aim to stick with it for three or four consecutive days for 20 minutes per day, Carson says. “Research shows that the mere expression of emotion in artistic form when you are hurting is beneficial,” she says.

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• Coping With Grief

How to Write Through Grief or Loss: Tips + Prompts

Updated 07/2/2021

Published 05/7/2021

Dr. Alejandra Vasquez, JD, CT

Certified Grief Counselor

Cake values integrity and transparency. We follow a strict editorial process to provide you with the best content possible. We also may earn commission from purchases made through affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, we earn from qualifying purchases. Learn more in our affiliate disclosure .

Grief and loss can be isolating and lonely experiences. Many of us have an idea of what it's like to grieve but might not ever have experienced the loss of someone close to us. Finding out what's normal and what isn't can be hard to decipher.

Writing through loss can be as much a companion to your grief as a guide through your healing journey as you experience the grieving process.

Jump ahead to these sections:

What are the different ways you can write through your grief, tips for writing through your grief, prompts and questions to help you write through your grief.

Writing can open up your world to exploring questions about death and mourning, dealing with fear and anxiety, and helps you make sense of the profound anguish you'll face when a loved one dies.

Putting your thoughts down on paper can enable you to reflect on your love and loss, guiding you in an intimate expression of your healing journey. 

Starting a grief journal for the first year of grieving is healing and serves as a commemoration of your grief journey to look back at in time. Some creative outlets to explore as you sit down to write about your grief are:

• Short stories
• Participating in a grief forum  

There's no wrong way to write about your grief and loss. The experience can be entirely your own, and you don't have to share your work with anyone if you don't want to. Consider this a personal exploration of your grief journey to help you heal from your pain and loss.

There are no rules to your writing and no grammar or spelling mistakes to make. The process should be as easy and stress-free as you can make it. 

Expect to have many questions about grief that you’ll explore as part of your writing. You’ll get more comfortable with the process the more you sit down to do it and make it a part of your routine. The following tips will help you get started on your journey.

Get in writing mode

You can make your writing sessions a part of your daily ritual to heal from your grief. Consider your choices of where you’d like to sit and write that best honors your purpose and intentions.

Before you sit down to write, consider the following:

• Create a space that is welcoming, safe, and comfortable.
• Take time to explore and understand what's happened. You may not want to jump into your writing immediately.
• Make it a part of your writing commitment to spend a few minutes thinking and reflecting on your loss. You can expect the writing process to be painful yet healing.

Set a schedule

Although the writing process may trigger strong and unsettling emotions that you may try and avoid, sitting down to a set schedule each day will help keep you committed to your recovery. Try and see your writing sessions as a journey to the unexplored. One that you’ll need to commit yourself to reach a particular destination of healing on the other side.

Your commitment to your writing schedule will ensure that you sit down to write regardless of how uncomfortable you feel exploring your grief.

Gather all your tools

Get creative in your process. Ensure that before sitting down to write, you have all the proper tools you’ll need. Having to get up in the middle of your writing session can be distracting. You might want to have everything you’ll need at arm’s reach.

Think about what’ll make your writing process go more smoothly. Do you want to incorporate pencil drawings? Will you need tissues, some water, and soothing music playing in the background? Try to think of everything you’ll need ahead of time to keep you focused on your writing once you start. 

Truly let go

A grief writing session should take you through the painful process of reliving your loss and the experiences of profound pain you felt afterward.

When writing or journaling, allow yourself to write freely without censoring yourself. Writing is an exercise in not just coping with your loss but in healing from your grief. Permit yourself to truly let go and explore every aspect of your grieving as you write.

Talk to someone 

Sharing your grief writing experiences with a trusted friend or therapist will help you make sense of what you’re feeling and why.

Sometimes the journaling process can reveal repressed memories, feelings, and emotions you weren’t prepared to deal with. You may not understand why these came up in your writing. Getting a different perspective may help you piece together your grief with your reactions. 

Getting the writing flowing from your thoughts isn’t always easy. You can expect to sit there staring at a blank page from time to time. You know what and how you’re feeling, but you can’t seem to get the words down on paper. The following grief journal prompts will get your healing energy flowing and you to start writing.

If I had one more day...

We all wish we could have another day with our loved ones who've died. It's only natural to want to have them back. Many people spend their days lamenting and yearning over their lost loved ones. It's not unusual to feel that your time with him was cut short. Many of us think that if given one more day, things would be different. But, the reality is that we never know when tragedy will change our lives.

It helps the grieving process when you write down how things would be different if you had one more day. When done, continue writing about what if you had another day, and then another. This writing exercise should help calm some of your anxiety.

The last thing I wished I could’ve said...

One of the biggest regrets for those who’ve experienced the sudden and unexpected death of a loved one is not having an opportunity to say their final goodbyes.

An example of this is when someone dies alone in a car wreck or other type of tragedy. Writing about what you would’ve said to them given the opportunity can help release some of that regret you might have.

The happiest memory I have of you...

Remembering and writing about the happiest times with your loved one will help you focus on the good in times of deep despair.

Writing about happy memories after a loved one dies also helps bring back joy into your life after loss. It can bring you renewed hope and open the way to finding new happiness sources in your life following a tragedy.

I miss you the most when...

For all of the times you wished your loved one near telling them how much you miss them will release some of those feelings of deep yearning and longing for them. Write down about the times you felt most alone and what you do to help you cope.

Remember that it’s a natural and normal part of grief to miss a loved one who’s died profoundly. Tell them about it to help you feel better. 

Today, I’m having a hard time with...

Expect your emotions to ebb and flow from day to day. Some days will be more challenging than others, and that’s okay. As you progress through your grief, you’ll learn what triggers your suffering and how to get through it.

For the most demanding days to get through, sit down and write about what’s causing you the most pain that day. Ask your loved one to watch over you as you learn to cope with your grief.

These are the people who I consider my biggest supporters...

Writing down the list of people who've been the most incredible support to you during your grief journey reminds you that you're not alone. It's also very healing to share this information with your loved one who died to let them know how much you value their love and support.

Be specific when writing down the names of those who've been there for you. Elaborate on how they've helped you and how they've made you feel, and why you consider them your biggest supporters

This is how I can be more compassionate toward myself…

Having compassion for yourself can be expressed in many ways. One of those ways is to be easy on yourself, especially on your most challenging days. There's no definitive timeline to your grief and how it will play out. You can expect that there'll be some days where you feel that you're at your lowest.

When that happens, remember to give yourself that extra love and support that you'll need by taking care of yourself. Allow yourself to feel the pain of your suffering without judgment. Remember that you won't always feel this way, and things will get better.

I know that I’m healing when...

When you experience debilitating grief, all you can think about is how much it hurts to lose someone you love. You may feel stuck in your pain for weeks on end. However, as time goes by, you'll slowly start to feel better. The pain doesn't go away, but your suffering will lessen. 

Take note of every little milestone in your grief journey and write it down. You'll start to feel like a weight is slowly lifting off your shoulders. After a while, you should see the ebbs and flows of your journey. You'll be able to pinpoint subtle changes in your thoughts and feelings that let you know that you're slowly beginning to heal.

The Power of Healing Through Writing

The death of a loved one is an agonizing experience. The pain can be so debilitating that it makes it difficult to imagine how you'll survive. Often one of the most potent healing mechanisms for those who are suffering is writing through their grief. Although grieving can be profound, healing will follow. However, it's often a slow and painful journey.

Your loved one can inspire you to live a more productive and meaningful life through writing, find ways to build closer relationships, and understand yourself better. Healing your grief through writing will become one of your loved one's legacies to you.

Categories:

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Feeling Stuck in Your Grief After a Death? 10 Tips to Help

Creative Ways of Dealing with the Loss of a Loved One

Are you finding your stress compounded by the loss of a loved one.

Posted December 8, 2019 | Reviewed by Abigail Fagan

There aren’t many guarantees in life, but we do know that birth and death are definitely part of the equation. Whether expected or unexpected, dealing with the loss of loved ones can be both shattering and disorienting.

I experienced my first loss at the age of 10 when my grandmother committed suicide in my childhood home. While I didn’t realize the significance of that loss at the time, looking back, I now understand how it scarred me. Since then, I’ve lost more than 10 significant figures, including my grandfather, father, friends, and mentors.

There is no perfect prescription for how to cope with the loss of a loved one, and we all have our own way of mourning and navigating challenging times such as these, but one thing is true: time does heal.

There are some days that might seem easier than others. Also, certain times of the year, such as holidays and birthdays, are often strong reminders of deceased loved ones. During those occasions, we need to do a little extra something to help ourselves cope.

Here are some things to remember about grief and dealing with the loss of a loved one:

• It’s okay to be scared.
• It’s okay to feel empty.
• It’s okay to be numb.
• It’s okay to be sad.
• It’s okay to cry.
• It’s okay to laugh.
• It’s okay to be selfish.
• It’s okay to allow yourself time to heal.
• It’s okay to allow friends to be there for you.

How to Cope with Loss

Losing a loved one changes us, so when going through challenging times such as these, some people seek the assistance of a psychotherapist. Others might call on a trusted friend or relative, and some individuals might decide to travel or turn to creative endeavors such as writing.

After a loved one dies, it’s common to ask many questions about the person’s life and death. Posing these questions and examining the answers through writing is a very effective way to deal with loss. It’s also a way to give a voice to one’s feelings and thoughts or to reclaim one’s voice after being silenced.

Grief journaling is another way to express yourself, and it offers the opportunity to freely express your emotions, which can provide a sense of relief. Journaling helps you keep a record and process your experience and grief. It’s also a way to connect your mind, body, and spirit. As you journal, it’s a good idea to note all the signals you’re hearing, feeling, and seeing. The journal is an outlet where you can express yourself and where you won’t be judged.

Some questions you can ask yourself in your journal are: What do I feel? What do I see? What do I hear? What do I sense? What do I smell? What touches me? Answering these questions is one way to tap into your emotional truth, which is writing that comes from your heart rather than entirely from your mind. Writing your emotional truth is all about honesty and expressing your feelings openly. When you’re writing with emotional truth, you’re recalling your loved ones and your experiences with them, and you’re also writing about your feelings and reactions to those experiences.

Memories and Memory

When thinking about memories you had with your loved ones, remember that for the most part, memory is fallible and unreliable. However, memory is our only tool to connect with what happened in the past. Sometimes details may get blurred or fuzzy, but one thing is for sure: what we usually remember is whether we felt good or bad in response to our experiences.

As you recall events from your past, you’ll discover certain emotional truths about yourself and your loved ones. Remember, you’re writing about your own feelings, not someone else’s.

Some Writing Prompts

• Write about a comforting memory related to your loved one.
• Write about a shared experience that brings tears to your eyes.

Storytelling

Storytelling is another excellent way to deal with grief, as it’s a way to re-create ourselves and our stories. Here are five steps to this process:

• Acknowledgment. It’s vital to acknowledge and experience grief and discomfort. Remember that grief is the process that helps us adjust to the loss.
• Break the silence. Releasing a painful, secretive, or untold story can be very healing.
• Acceptance. Accepting what happened is important for the healing process, and writing can help us explore and gain insight into the story.
• Making sense of the story. After writing the story, we should try to step back and see it more clearly as a way to integrate it into our lives. This facilitates healing and transformation.
• Rewriting our story and moving forward. In this stage, we recover our energy and are able to move ahead with our lives in fulfilling ways. This leads to personal transformation and reinventing ourselves in the new landscape.

Letter Writing

There’s no right or wrong way to write a letter. The most important thing to remember is that it should be written from your heart. The most therapeutic letters offer the opportunity to reopen contact with the deceased. It’s the contact that is important, rather than seeking “closure.” Here are some prompts:

• Write about what you love and appreciate about a loved one you’ve lost.
• Write about a special memory you shared.
• Tell the person how much you miss him or her.
• Explain how you’ve grown or changed.
• Share new revelations about yourself or your loved ones.
• Write down how you continue to honor the person’s memory.
• Start out by saying, “The one question I’ve always wanted to ask you is ..."

Since the individual you’re writing about is no longer alive, you might wonder what to do with the letter after you write it. Well, you can save it on your computer, seal it in an envelope and keep in a private place, share it with a friend, keep it in your wallet or by your bedside, or have a burning ceremony.

Remember that no matter how you choose to creatively heal from the loss of your loved one, it’s the right way for you. It’s whatever feels appropriate for you at a particular time.

Happy holidays to you and yours, and remember to honor those you’ve lost this past year.

Diana Raab, MFA, Ph.D., is an author, speaker, educator, and survivor. She’s written nine books of nonfiction and poetry, including the recent Writing for Bliss and Writing for Bliss: A Companion Journal.

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How Writing & Creativity Can Help Us Process Our Feelings

It’s the third time this week that I’m sitting at my desk and staring at a blank screen. The cursor is impatient, persistently blinking while awaiting my words. Grief, alongside many other complex feelings , has woven itself through the past two years, meeting many of us head-on with the loss of loved ones, jobs, security, and stability. Paired with the grief and rage born from political tension and injustices—well, it has often felt too heavy to carry. Even as our experiences are individual, the felt trauma is shared. Our grief is collective. These heavier feelings run threads through us all.

When moving through these heavier feelings, I struggle to find any source of inspiration. As a creative, I am someone who processes my feelings through words. But in the last few months, I haven’t known how or what to write . Or maybe it’s that the writing feels inconsequential. Like so many others, I’m finding myself emotionally exhausted and unable to create. What does it look like to navigate grief by writing, by throwing some clay, by picking up a paintbrush? Is there a bridge that exists between despair and hope? Between sorrow and beauty?

“Like so many others, I’m finding myself emotionally exhausted and unable to create.”

Author David Kessler explains that meaning is how we mark loss. In a podcast interview with Brené Brown, he notes that creativity can assist us in finding meaning. I think of Homer’s Iliad and Picasso’s Guernica, Maya Angelou’s When Great Trees Fall, and Mary Oliver’s Heavy . These celebrated creations were born out of life’s darkest seasons. They serve as reminders that light dances with shadows. Throughout history, art has been a form of resilience, a way humanity has dealt with despair and moved through suffering. “There’s no way around the pain…Meaning will be the cushion, but you have to feel the pain,” laments Kessler. 

“Meaning will be the cushion, but you have to feel the pain.” — David Kessler

I’ve noticed that when I do find myself able to write, I write furiously because my body needs it. It seems that once my fingers find the keyboard, they take over. Strings of sentences refuse to be left unfinished, and so I keep writing and digging, allowing my feelings to work themselves out on the page in a cathartic undertaking. Even if I’m not writing about loss, it feels good to have intention. To be sailing on a familiar course. I guess that’s the secret: Creating while grieving is not about what you create, it’s about the act of creating itself.

“The meaning is not in the death,” explains Kessler. “The meaning is in what we do after. The meaning is in us. That’s where the meaning lies. That’s what we can create.” When I write amidst grief, I feel all of the emotions rising. My heart swells and begs me to stop, but also to keep going. Some doorways need to be opened, some wounds need to be exposed and flushed out.

“Some doorways need to be opened, some wounds need to be exposed and flushed out.”

Perhaps creative work can offer healing for those wounds. By confronting grief this way, we are not simply getting over our loss and heartache, we are moving through them. We are taking the hurt and trauma and doing our best to find meaning. Grief is the catalyst, inviting us to release all that we hold inside. Here, we create space for the continuation of our stories now informed by losses.

This, of course, requires much of us. It takes courage to open ourselves up and face heavier emotions head-on. Be gentle with yourself in your creative endeavors; this is a sensitive and fragile time. May we be kind to ourselves by not judging our creations harshly or critiquing our work the same way we do in non-grieving seasons.

Likewise, may we recognize our need for support. We owe this to ourselves—creators or not. We all need loved ones, rest, therapy, and self-care rituals to lean on when the loss feels too heavy to bear alone. These safety nets are useful for when grief carries us overboard. 

Remember that though we are not isolated in our losses, the grieving process is unique for everyone. At the risk of contradicting myself: you don’t have to be creative while grieving. You don’t need to turn your pain into art. While I’ve found it helpful for me, these heavier feelings show up differently for everyone, and the best thing we can do is honor that. 

“Grief and loss show up differently for everyone, and the best thing we can do is honor that.”

Kayti Christian (she/her) is the Managing Editor at The Good Trade. She has a Master’s in Nonfiction Writing from the University of London and is the creator of Feelings Not Aside , a newsletter for sensitive people.

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• Mar 13, 2023

Creative Ideas in Grief and Bereavement -Writing a Letter

Expressive writing can be a powerful healing exercise.

Writing is an excellent way of processing our emotions, especially difficult emotions such as

grief. Writing allows you to put into words what may be difficult to say out loud. It may be that you wish to express an anger about a situation or just feel like you need to share your thoughts to rationalise them.

Expressive writing has been shown to reduce anxiety and depression, as well as promoting

good general mental health and wellbeing. It allows you to really ‘feel’ the emotions associated with grief and bereavement, and also to start to work through them over time.

All you need to do, is take a pen and paper or a laptop, and start writing. Think about how you really feel. Remember you don’t need to worry about upsetting anybody, so really write about what emotions or feelings that you have.

Important ... This letter should be kept private, so either keep it somewhere safe, or after you have finished simply destroy the letter/file. In the letter, you can tell the person who has died, how you really feel, maybe tell them something you wish you had said, or maybe just tell them what’s going on your life right now, there really is no right or wrong way to write a letter as long as it helps you.

An example of some excerpts from letters could be:

“Dad, I’m really sorry that I never got to tell you that I loved you, I was always so busy with work. I do love you though, I always have and always will. I miss you so much”

“I smiled today, and I thought of you. I felt guilty for smiling at first, but I know you would be so proud of me, and your children for staying strong. We miss you so much.”

“I am so angry with you for leaving me”

“I feel so sad today, I just want to cry all the time. I know you would have stayed if you had the choice. Someone asked me today if I’m okay, I said yes. What I actually wanted to say is that my heart is breaking and no I’m not okay.”

This is an incredibly powerful exercise to do and one which can re-visited as many times as you feel is helpful, however, if you feel it is too upsetting then it is important to stop the exercise and seek support from a bereavement counsellor who can help you to start to process those difficult thoughts and emotions.

Jo Goodwin-Worton retrained and qualified as a grief specialist and now offers real-life experience and academia to support people through a loss or bereavement. Having had first-hand experience of grief herself Jo can relate to your grief experience and offer you the support you need at such a difficult time. You can learn more about Jo here .

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Nursing’s creative writing award announces winners

• Written by UNMC College of Nursing
• Published Apr 9, 2024

The 2023-2024 UNMC College of Nursing Creative Writing Awards announced winners for this year’s contest. The theme was “Nursing Does That,” encouraging students and alumni to write a story about an experience of how they were changed by caring for an individual who was different than themselves. 

This was the first year offering a contest for alumni, who could submit a story on the same theme.

“We received stories from all our five campuses and from all our academic programs,” said Mark Darby, assistant professor in the UNMC College of Nursing and contest chair. “Our alumni were very supportive, providing not only great stories but funds for our awards this year.”

Darby added, “The stories reflect the deep respect and care our students and alumni provide to the citizens of Nebraska. Nurses face difficult clinical situation and still provide high levels of care.”

This is the fourth year for the contest, which has provided more than $53,000 in awards and resulted in four student stories being published in the American Journal of Nursing.

The top award winners of the student contest will share their stories at a virtual banquet, available at this link , on April 25 from 5-6:30 p.m.

The names of the awardees and the title are below. For previous winners, see the Creative Writing Project website .

Student awards

• Emily Tanner, “Marge Dancing in the Rain”
• Julia Miller, “Your Secret is Safe with Me”
• Sierra Bryant, “I Know That Voice”
• Tayla Goettsche, “His Cat Named Oreo”

Honorable mention

• Greta Rosno, “To My Best Friend Grief”
• Kirsten Hepburn, “Just Hope”
• Kylee Solberg, “Fight Like a Princess”

Publication award

• Alyssa Ramsey, “Compassionate Care – The Heart of Nursing”
• Amanda Gould, “Nursing Can Make You Cry”
• Emma Wareham, “Nursing Does That”
• Ethan VanEnkevort, “Nursing Did That to Me”
• Gabriel Bodeman, “Heartbeat”
• Kaitlyn Gamble, “Pivot”
• Kia Scott-Sellers, “The Ventilator”
• Kylee Solberg, “A New Day”
• Lauren Longacre, “Strangers”
• Lisa Salisbury, “Nursing Does That”

Alumni awards

Alumni top award

• Jan Fuccillo, “A Change of Heart”
• Candy Lussetto, “Nursing Does That”      
• Sharon Redding, “SR- Nursing”

Alumni honorable mention

• Rebecca Stone, “Beautiful Changes”
• Cindy Miller, “Imposter No More”
• Dawn Steinman, “In August Of 1979”
• Mary Martin, “Nursing Does That Changes Lives Forever”
• Katie Weaver, “The Limit Does Not Exists”
• Kay Rockwell, “Nurse Kay”

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Arts academy students commended in 2024 regional scholastic art & writing awards.

57 students from the Academy’s creative writing, interdisciplinary arts, and visual arts divisions received accolades in one of the nation’s most prestigious national competitions for young artists.

57 students from Interlochen Arts Academy’s creative writing, interdisciplinary arts, and visual arts divisions received accolades in the 2024 regional Scholastic Art & Writing Awards .

15 Creative Writing students were among the award recipients in the West Central Michigan region, which was adjudicated this year by the competition’s region-at-large. Seniors Shreya Ganguly and Emily Pickering won Gold Keys for their portfolios, contributing to the division’s combined total of 15 Gold Keys.

Interdisciplinary Arts students Melodie Rassulkyzy and Olivia Babovic also received creative writing awards. Rassulkyzy earned both a Gold Key and one of the region’s American Voices Award nominations—a citation granted to the five best written works from each region.

40 Arts Academy visual artists united for a total of 107 individual and portfolio awards, including 28 Gold Keys, 37 Silver Keys, and 42 Honorable Mentions. Academy students Benjamin Goodlife, Sihyun (Evelyn) Park, and Maya Tzonev scored four of the region’s five American Visions Award nominations, which are awarded to the region’s five best visual artworks (Park received nominations for two pieces). Six visual arts students earned portfolio awards, with senior Campbell Cronk winning a Gold Key for her portfolio “Empathy Through Grief.”

All winners will be honored at regional awards celebrations. Gold Key-winning works will advance to the national level of the competition for further adjudication. Results of the national judging will be announced soon.

Founded in 1923, the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards are presented by the Alliance for Young Artists & Writers to recognize and celebrate the vision, ingenuity, and talent of our nation’s youth. Each year, young artists in grades 7-12 are invited to submit their works in 29 different categories of art and writing for the chance to earn scholarships and exhibition opportunities.

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• Category: Games

How Grief and a Deep Love of Games Is at the Centerpiece of Tales of Kenzera: Zau

• Studio Founder & Creator Abubakar Salim shares his intriguing journey and his studio’s creative philosophy ahead of the release of their first game, Tales of Kenzera: Zau.
• Surgent Studios is a collective of talented artists, musicians, actors, and designers who have come together to craft gaming experiences that connect to the hearts of its players.
• Tales of Kenzera: Zau launches April 23, 2024, for Xbox Series X|S.

Creating a video game is no small feat. It takes time, resources, experience, and many other things to continue tilting in your favor. This is where Surgent Studios, the team behind the upcoming Tales of Kenzera: Zau , currently sits. A collective of talented artists, musicians, actors, and designers who have come together to craft gaming experiences that connect to the hearts of its players.

You may have heard about Kenzera before – it was featured in the recent Xbox Partner Preview broadcast and was showcased during the Game Awards. Surgent Studios is taking a tremendously big swing with their first game, a metroidvania that celebrates the magnificent Bantu and the African cultures, and grounding its narrative around a deeply personal subject that we all can relate to: Grief. This might be why the game is breaking through for so many players ahead of its April 23 release on Xbox Series X|S.

“I always get asked as to why I made this into a game and not lean into where I originally come from, which is film and TV,” says Studio Founder & Creator Abubakar Salim, speaking during a recent preview event. “The truth is my love for games is what got me into acting. Actively stepping into the shoes of these characters and evolving with them made me fall in love with the storytelling.”

Surgent Studios was founded to act as this sort of creative vehicle that, as Salim explains it, is to share stories that connect to the human truth. “We want to tell stories that go beyond race or gender. It’s raw. It’s real. And it taps into what makes us all human. We have a finite time in this world, so we might as well enjoy it as much as we can, right?”

It was on this journey of creating the studio that had Salim find some incredible people from around the world to join his team, from Nigeria, to Botswana, to New York, and Paris. And although Surgent Studios is a small team crafting their first game together, Salim says they have all been driven by delivering an experience that is not only fun but speaks to a deeper thing that makes us human. It was this aspect is what connected them with this project, allowing them to be vulnerable during its creation.

“I wanted to create an experience that honored my father and the ones that we have loved and lost,” he says. “It ( Tales of Kenzera: Zau ) was inspired by this question that I would ask myself almost every day after my father passed: what would I sacrifice to bring my father back? To hear him again. To touch him. The game is inspired and laced with Bantu myths and legends, mainly from the stories that my father would tell me as a kid.”

Tales of Kenzera: Zau follows a young shaman named Zau who makes a deal with Kalunga, the God of Death, that in exchange for three great spirits, he’ll bring his father back to the realm of the living. Zuberi is the character you will play when you start the game, and he is gifted a book by his late father — this book is his father’s final way of connecting with him – and you’ll learn that it’s through the eyes of Zuberi that you will journey into the world.

“When I was clearing my father’s things after he passed away, there was this book that he left which contained his handwriting. And it meant so much to me. Because it felt as if I was looking at his handwriting, I could almost bring him back to life, imagining him, you know, writing it, and this essentially inspired how we get into this story.”

Telling this story within the metroidvania space, as Salim explains, is because the genre’s rules and structure behave a lot like grief. As a player, you’re thrown into this alien world that you can never prepare for. Yet the longer you stay in it – exploring its various dark and unknown corners at your own pace — you become more comfortable within it.

“It’s the idea that the journey of grief is full of surprises. It’s full of ups and downs. It feels chaotic. You know, a constant music track that you must move to. But if you listen carefully, you’ll find the beat that you can follow to glide through the music,” Salim explains. “With the gameplay, you know we wanted it to be approachable, but you know, not too easy, right? We have challenging traversals, skillful progression, and you know, this combat system that allows agency… we wanted to emulate this dance that you dance to your own tune, essentially.”

Salim explains that it was important to approach Tales of Kenzera: Zau as a coming-of-age story, an evolution of this young kid becoming a young man as the game’s protagonist, Zau, is learning to cope with the loss of his father through the characters he meets and the vibrant world that he engages in. It’s this new version of himself that he discovers where he needs to press on.

“I kind of wanted to try and capture this clash of timeframes and perspectives, that of the son, in the modern space of Kanzera, and that of the father, in the mystical realm of Kenzera. And sometimes there is a clash, but other times there is also this synergy. Again, the father communicating through what he has left behind.”

A key component for Tales of Kenzera: Zau is duality, per Salim. Like, looking how life and death intersect and commune with each other. “Death is treated very differently in regard to the different African cultures,” he says. “There’s almost this constant communication that the living has with those we’ve lost.”

You’ll soon get to experience Zau’s adventure within the world of Kenzera , from its unique perspective of highlighting African culture as well as tapping into the familiar genre that is well-loved by many gamers. Tales of Kenzera: Zau has the chance to be something truly special for everyone who plays it starting on April 23 for Xbox Series X|S.

Tales of Kenzera™: ZAU Standard Edition

Electronic Arts

‘I Used to Be Funny' Trailer: Rachel Sennott Is an Aspiring Stand-Up Comedian Grappling with Grief

Rachel Sennott always has her finger on the pulse of indie films, and her latest feature "I Used to Be Funny" is no exception.

The "Shiva Baby," "Bodies Bodies Bodies," and "Bottoms" star leads highly anticipated dark dramedy "I Used To Be Funny," directed by rising talent Ally Pankiw who has helmed episodes of "Black Mirror" and "The Great," plus a recent short film titled "Decades of Confusion" for fashion brand Loewe .

Sennott stars as aspiring stand-up comedian Sam Cowell who works as an au pair by day. Yet after the disappearance of Brooke (Olga Petsa), a teen girl she used to nanny, Sam begins to struggle with PTSD and grapples with whether or not to join the search. The film is split between two timelines as Sam tries to recover from her past trauma and get back on stage while also reliving memories of Brooke.

Writer/director Pankiw marks her debut feature with "I Used to Be Funny," which also stars Jason Jones, Sabrina Jalees, Caleb Hearon, Ennis Esmer, and Dani Kind. The feature premiered at the 2023 Sundance Film Festival.

"I wanted to explore what the ups and downs of recovery from trauma  actually  look like," Pankiw said in a director's statement. "It's less often a tale of revenge or vengeance or pure devastation, but rather a slow, lifelong repairing of the relationships that shape us and a reclaiming of our own comedic voices and joy. This film is ultimately about how far and deep the fractures of trauma can reach after even one act of violence."

Actress Sennott is next set to star in the ensemble film "SNL 1975" which charts the creation of the iconic sketch series. Sennott previously told IndieWire's Kate Erbland that finding her creative writing partner in "Shiva Baby" director Emma Seligman was a game-changing way to enter the industry.

"There are so many times when you're like, ‘We should do something' or people are like, ‘Let's make a movie,' and then you text them, ‘Can we meet?' and they're like, ‘I should be free in three months,'" Sennott said. "Emma and I really connected over both wanting to do it and not being afraid to say, ‘I want to do this.'"

"I Used to Be Funny" premieres in New York theaters on June 7 and in Los Angeles theaters on June 14 before being available on digital June 18.

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