I’ve sampled a few self-help books about grief, but none of them really helped me all that much. Until I read this book.
It was completely by happenstance. I was sitting in a rehab lobby (long story) waiting for what seemed like forever. I didn’t have anything to do; I didn’t even have my phone on me. I paced up and down—I was detoxing from a relapse and still in the throes of all the symptoms of PTSD I suffered after my dad died. I was super anxious and needed SOMETHING to do. Finally I glanced at this bookshelf across the room from me. Most of the books weren’t interesting in the least.
I picked this book up, not expecting much, to be honest. It’s just that all the other books looked so dreadfully dull. So I thought what the hell, you never know. Maybe this could be useful.
Right from the beginning, this book spoke to me about grief in a way that I hadn’t ever heard it spoken of, and that felt instinctively “right,” as if it was putting my subconscious thoughts into words that I had never been able to find before.
First: all grief is unique. Just because you lost a father and I lost a father doesn’t mean you “understand what I’m going through.” What if you had a warm, loving relationship with your father and I had a cold, distanced relationship with mine?
And for me personally, I had so many layers to unpack with the complicated relationship I had with my father that, honestly, as simple as that statement was, I actually really needed to hear it. It went down deep into my stomach: “all grief is unique—because all relationships are unique.”
Second, the book pointed out that almost all the messages we are typically given about grief in our culture are PROFOUNDLY unhelpful. Most of them are intellectual statements or even downright harmful advice. Things like:
1. "Don’t feel" (or "don’t feel bad")
2. "Grieve alone"
3. "Replace the loss"
4. "Big boys don’t cry" (or something similar)
5. "Just give it time"
The authors of this book quickly and powerfully debunk each of these beyond refute. “Just give it time”, for instance? If you were driving along and got a flat tire, would you just sit there on the side of the road and wait for air to magically come back into the tire? If your arm was broken, would you just sit around at home waiting for it to just heal on its own? Just like a broken arm is a physical trauma to the body, experiencing a major loss is a great trauma to the mind. And no, it doesn’t “just get better with time.” We’ve all met people who have been grieving for decades and yet are still unpleasant, mopey people to be around. Or people who are still stuck in something else bad that happened to them, living life as victims decades later.
The co-authors of this book, who have worked with grievers for decades, assert in the first chapter of the book that THERE IS an actual protocol to follow for dealing with grief. There are specific steps that if you follow will complete the relationship that you lost and you will feel better. That’s the goal: feeling better. You can actually feel better.
As soon as I read this, I was immediately intrigued. It sounded too good to be true. But also I’m sick and tired of hearing everyone say “everyone grieves differently…there’s no formulaic process for it…it just takes time…” and all of the other bollocks about how there are so many paths to grief, etc. All that those statements had done for me was make me feel aimless, like I was wandering in a shifting labyrinth with no process, no progress, no timeline, no understanding, no solutions, and therefore ultimately no hope.
Because ultimately if you don’t have an actual program or plan or journey to step along, it just feels futile and pointless. That’s depressing. Those messages did not help me. So to say that I was intrigued that this book offered a different way of looking at it is an understatement.
A short digression mentioned in the book that I think is worth mentioning. A lot of people believe that grief is processed linearly through the stages of grief laid out by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. However, it is a fact that Kübler-Ross has repeatedly made it clear that
a) those stages were only deduced by her as she specifically studied people dying of cancer, and
b) she never intended to say that those stages are linearly progressed through AT ALL. The five stages are not linear. It saddens me that I hear this misinformation repeated on a weekly basis.
Anyways. The five stages aren't linear. But where does that leave us?
Enter The Grief Recovery Handbook. They claim that there absolutely IS a series of small, correct steps you can take to feel better. It has to do with completing the unique relationship that you lost.
The first time I read those words on the page, I remember where I was sitting. I was in an overstuffed aquamarine chair, reading late at night in this old Victorian house, still detoxing from my recent relapse, mostly bored out of my mind. I would work on recovery work all day and then in the evening I would settle down into this overstuffed chair and have an hour to myself to do something that nobody was making me do, one thing that I wanted to do because I enjoyed it. If you know me, it should be no surprise that that thing was reading.
I viscerally remember the two books I read while I was in that place. One was Understanding Kurt Vonnegut (love him). The other was the Grief Recovery Handbook. It was a solace to have these books, to have a small part of me that was still me in that place, even as I was doing this internal work to strip away and rebuild myself.
Everyone else at the rehab was there for recovery from addiction, and I was there for that too, but I was also there because of my intense grief, which was really the thing that had triggered my relapse. Luckily, one of my therapists there understood grief work and gave me some particular assignments and encouragement. The other thing I really had going for me was this book.
So I remember sitting there in that aquamarine chair and reading those words: grief is about “completing the relationship.” I put the book down. I didn’t yet know what the hell “completing the relationship” exactly was…but I knew that this simply felt like The Truth.
So I continued on. Next, the book (which is almost like a workbook in that it continually tells you the next thing to do, one at a time, in very short chapters—which is very much appreciated because, like many grievers, I about had the attention span of a walnut at the time) instructed me to build up awareness of the unique relationship I lost. What was so unique about my relationship with my dad? What was it really like? What specifically did I lose when I lost him?
This encouraged me to continue the work that I had already started, which was to write about my father. He was such a complex and misunderstood person, and my relationship with him was also so complex, that I knew I needed to write a lot in order to get it out, in order to even come to an understanding for myself. And then once I understood it myself, it was always so helpful to share that writing with someone else. To be heard, to be understood: that was the one thing I had discovered that kind of helped. It didn’t make it not hurt, but it was…different. And definitely better.
So anyways. I progressed through the book through the next several chapters. There were constantly moments when a line would jump out at me. And there were just so many things they claimed in this book that just felt very true at my core.
The first couple of chapters were all about dispelling the lies that our society has told us about grief which I mentioned earlier. I became sick to my stomach with anger at how our society treats grief, feeling how wrong it is, how wrong I’ve always felt it is.
When you get halfway through the book, it recommends that you stop and work the rest of the assignments with a partner, someone else who has grief work they want to do. From that point onward every assignment has two sets of instructions, one for if you’re working it with a partner and one for if you’re working it alone. I appreciate that. I can imagine a lot of people benefiting from first working it on their own if they just can’t get up the willingness to work it with someone else.
As for me though, I had done enough recovery work at this stage in my life to know that I needed to work it with someone else to get the full benefit. I figured, working the steps doesn't work on your own, so I couldn't conceive that doing grief work on your own would be any different. So I paused and waited and went back to reading my Kurt Vonnegut book.
After I got back home and got settled into my new normal (which was very different from my old normal, but that’s a story for another day), I cast around for any friends who also wanted to do grief work. I told them about this book and said I didn’t know for sure if it would work, but everything I had read in it so far was really helpful and just really felt true. As fortune had it, one of those friends told me he had already gone through the book on his own and was ready to go through it again with a partner. So we did.
We went super slow. We both had a lot going in our lives and both felt like grief is one of those things you can’t rush, so we just met every other week. The first few weeks we just read through the early chapters again, since they're so rich. It took us a few months before we even got to the chapters that had actual assignments.
When we got there, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. The first assignment was to draw this timeline of grief events in your life. For each one you draw the line down farther to indicate the depth of the grief event. I was staggered to realize I had had so many grief events in the thirty-five years I've been on this earth. I ended up writing down over thirty.
The second assignment is to do a relationship graph. You pick one person that you want to focus on with your grief work: I picked my father, of course. Then you chart out all the most meaningful memories you have with them in a timeline with a written description for each event. Again I was staggered; I think I ended up with over forty events and I know I could have kept going if we wanted to get more granular.
In the next assignment you examine each of those events and identify if there’s anything you wish you could communicate to the person about that event. The categories are apologies, forgiveness statements, and the catch-all “emotionally impactful statements“ category to cover anything else that comes up.
For me, I noticed a lot of gratitude statements that came up, so I created a fourth category for that. I realized how many wonderful things that my dad had done for me that I had never said 'thank you' for. All the trips all over the world, all the adventures he made us do, like climbing Mt Shasta or canoeing in the Okefenokee Swamp. The latter was something I had always said was the “worst trip ever” in order to rib him, but I realized with tears that I actually am really grateful for that trip. I don’t think I had ever told him that.
And there were so many other things that I never told him. We had a gruff relationship, he and my brother and I. We had a lot of fun together but, as is so normal with guys, for some reason there were a lot of tender emotions that we just never expressed. My dad was on the spectrum. Me and my brother probably are too. I don’t know—we just didn’t say “thank you” that much. We didn’t say “I love you” even though we most definitely did. My dad didn’t ever say goodbye when he would leave. We just didn’t SAY these things.
So I’m sure you can guess where the final assignment takes you. You take all of those statements and put them into a letter to the person (or thing) that you lost. Then you read the letter out loud in front of your partner, and they read theirs.
About two months ago, when we read our letters to each other, it was a really sacred moment. I won’t try to describe it beyond that. It was really meaningful.
After that the book wraps up. It says “you’re complete now!” And it gives guidance on what to do when other memories come up that you had forgotten about, and it has various appendices for how to handle different tricky situations. But that’s it as far as the process goes.
Looking back, the process as a whole is surprisingly simple. It’s almost like the only reason the book had to be as long as it is (it’s like 200 pages; it’s not THAT long) was just to first debunk all the misinformation and obstacles and gunk that our society has fed us about grief. That’s probably a third of the book, maybe half. And it’s very needed. I know I needed it.
But the process isn't hard. It is hard in the sense that you have to be willing to sit down with your feelings. You have to be willing to do these assignments that are going to bring up a lot of feelings and at some point make you cry, maybe a lot.
But it's not complicated. It's actually very simple. And for me, it was very healing.
So yeah. I can’t give this book anything less than five stars, first of all because it helped me so much, but also because I can’t imagine it not being really helpful for most other people as well. This book is so underrated, I feel. All these self-help gurus out there go through a death and then think they’re qualified to write a whole universal grief book based on their single experience. Skip all those books. This book is written by people who have not only been through the wringer with their own grief but they have also worked with grievers of all kinds for like 30 or 40 years at this point. They really know what they’re talking about. And you won’t get all the empty platitudes and empty religion or intellectual statements or mumbo jumbo of all those other books. What you will get is an actual practical plan to actually deal with the grief and feel better.
So honestly, if you don’t want to feel better, don’t read this book. Stay far away.
I say that jokingly, but I did notice in myself a little bit of hesitation. It’s like part of me didn’t want to let go of my grief. So that’s been a whole interesting thing to be curious about and explore.
And so if that’s you, no judgment. But in my experience, working this process hasn’t taken anything away from me. It has only added. It hasn’t taken away my good memories of my father or how much I value our relationship. In fact, it’s given me a way of exploring that relationship and articulating in words, to another human being, just how valuable my relationship with my father actually was and why. So it hasn’t taken anything away. It’s only deepened and made the experience better. And it’s been healing: there really is no better word for it.
I heard a song come on today while I was working. It arrested my attention. It's called Honey, by the Grandbrothers. It's an instrumental song with so much emotional build and catharsis to it. I stopped my work and asked myself: what is it about this song that, with no words, is speaking so deeply to me?
Long story short, I ended up stopping and writing about my dad. And I'm going to keep the details private to myself. But I will say: something lifted. I finally felt more at peace with the whole thing.
It's been three years. And what a journey those three years have been. But you know what? I'm actually really grateful, in a way, for the grief work. I really am.
Grief connects us with what's most important in life. Up until this point in my life, whenever people had told me, "all that matters in life is love," I kind of responded with "yeah, yeah"—like, at an intellectual level I knew they were probably right, but that just wasn't how I was wired at that time. To me, life was about achieving something with my life, something important. I kept changing my mind every 6 months on what that thing was, but, you know—SOMETHING.
And in a way, that makes sense. I've been a young man in the warrior phase of his life for the last 17 years. It's that stage where you want to go out and conquer everything in the world. So it makes sense: what my life was about was CONQUERING things. Love was in the back of my mind, but it wasn't my ever-present guiding light. The pulse in my veins was ACTION. Accomplishment. War.
But when my father died, it all came crashing down. I stopped going to grad school. I stopped working my job for three weeks. And even when I went back in, it was like...all of life was just different. The conference rooms were the same, the stairwells the same, my desk was the same—minus the one hundred bananas that my coworkers had piled up on my desk, but that's a story for another day.
The point is, I was in the same place, interacting with the same people, going to the same meetings, doing the same job, but I was having a radically different experience. Suddenly, none of the things that mattered to me before mattered at all. I couldn't give a shit about being impressive, working harder than everyone, being smarter than everyone. I could not care one iota. I was literally living in a different reality. There was my life before that moment, and now there's my life after.
So doing this grief work has really caused me to slow down. And it has been 100%, with no reservations, a good thing. I spend more time with my family. I stop and look into people's eyes more often. Everyone matters to me: babies, old people, people different than me, people the same. Everyone.
And life matters more to me. It just matters. Ironic, since at first, my grief plunged me into a depression where nothing mattered. Now everything matters. Because it wasn't that nothing mattered when I was depressed. It's that I was burned out on worrying about all the things that didn't.
I feel like I'm waxing too philosophical to not make fun of myself here. And that's ok. But I don't have to do that—don't have to deflect. I can let it stand.
And I just want to say, if you're someone who is going through a major grief event—first, be gentle with yourself. Life's too short to live any other way. And second—in my experience, what really helped was just to focus on one little tiny positive action at a time. Anything more was overwhelming. And third: if and when you feel up to working a program on the grief—maybe give this book a shot? It can't make things any worse, can it?
So here's to wishing you well. Enjoy the journey. And hey—maybe we'll see each other along the way.