For decades, many people have been introduced to grief through the concept of the “Five Stages of Grief”—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. These stages have become so deeply embedded in our culture that many grieving people believe they are supposed to experience loss in this order and eventually arrive at a final destination called acceptance. The problem is that grief rarely works that way.
For many bereaved parents, grandparents, and siblings who have experienced profound loss, the five stages can feel frustrating, misleading, and even harmful. Instead of helping them understand their grief, the model can create unrealistic expectations about what grief should look like and how long it should last.
The truth is that grief is not a series of boxes to check off. It is not a process that follows a predictable path. And it certainly is not something that can be completed..
The five stages were introduced by psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her 1969 book On Death and Dying. Importantly, her work focused on people facing their own terminal illness, not on bereaved individuals grieving the death of a loved one. Over time, the model was applied broadly to all forms of loss and grief. Unfortunately, many people began interpreting the stages as a roadmap that everyone should follow.
This misunderstanding has led countless grieving individuals to wonder:
The answer is simple: grief is not a linear process.
Anyone who has lived with significant loss knows that grief can be unpredictable. One day you may feel relatively stable. The next day, a song, a photograph, a birthday, or an ordinary moment can bring overwhelming sadness. Years after a loss, tears may still come unexpectedly. Moments of joy may coexist with moments of heartbreak. This doesn’t mean something is wrong. It means you are human.
Families share with me that grief often moves in waves not stages. Those waves may become less intense over time, but they can still return without warning. Anniversaries, milestones, holidays, and life transitions frequently reopen emotions that never completely disappear. A parent whose child died twenty years ago may still cry when speaking their child’s name. A sibling may still feel the ache of an empty chair at family gatherings. A grandparent may still wonder what milestones their grandchild would have reached. These experiences are not signs of unfinished grief. They are signs of enduring love.
One of the most damaging misconceptions about the stage model is the idea that grief has a finish line. Many grieving people feel pressure from society to “move on,” “find closure,” or “get over it.” The five stages can unintentionally reinforce the belief that there is a point at which grief should be resolved and left behind. But grief is not a problem to solve. Grief exists because love exists.
When someone important dies, the relationship changes, but it does not disappear. We continue to carry memories, hopes, dreams, and connections with those we love. Their absence becomes part of our life story. For bereaved parents especially, there is no stage that removes the reality that their child is missing. There is no level of acceptance that erases the longing to hold them again. Instead of ending, grief often evolves. We learn to carry it differently. We find ways to integrate the loss into our lives. We create meaning, memories, rituals, and connections that allow us to move forward while continuing to honor the person who died.
Another challenge with the stage model is that it suggests grief should look similar for everyone. In reality, grief is deeply personal. Some people cry often. Others rarely cry at all. Some want to talk about their loved one constantly. Others need long periods of quiet. Some find comfort in support groups. Others find healing through writing, faith, art, nature, service, or private remembrance. There is no universal timeline. There is no standard progression. There is no checklist for successful grieving. What matters is not whether someone’s grief matches a theory. What matters is whether they are finding healthy ways to navigate their loss while honoring their unique experience.
Rather than viewing grief as a series of stages to complete, it may be more helpful to think of grief as a lifelong journey of adaptation. Over time, many bereaved individuals discover that they can experience both grief and joy. They can laugh again without loving less. They can build meaningful lives while continuing to miss the person who died. The goal is not to stop grieving. The goal is to learn how to carry grief alongside life. Some days grief takes center stage. Other days it quietly accompanies us in the background. Both experiences are normal. What many bereaved people eventually discover is that healing does not mean forgetting. It does not mean closure. It does not mean reaching a final stage where grief disappears. Healing means learning to live with a love that no longer has a physical place to go.
Perhaps the greatest gift we can give ourselves is permission to grieve in our own way. We do not need to fit our experiences into five categories. We do not need to measure our progress against an imaginary timeline. We do not need to feel guilty when grief resurfaces years later. Grief is not a disorder to cure or a task to complete. It is a natural response to loving someone deeply and losing them physically. I recently spoke to a bereaved mom who felt that she was not progressing as others do. Three years after the death of her son, she still found herself crying daily, and often has days filled with anger and rage. Sharing with her that she is moving along as she needed to, for herself, was eye opening for her
The reality is that grief changes, grows, and transforms throughout our lives. It may soften. It may become quieter. But for many people, especially after the death of a child, sibling, or grandchild, it never completely disappears. And that’s okay. Because grief is not evidence that we are failing to heal. It is evidence that someone we love mattered. And that love continues.
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Very well stated. I will share this article with my chapter on Tuesday the 24th of August.
I am also going to explain the virtual fall retreat.
Thank you,
Sarita Cunningham
Carroll, Stark, Tuscarawas Chapter
Ohio
I really appreciated this compassionate perspective. It gently reminds us that grief is deeply personal and cannot always be understood through stages, which felt both comforting and profoundly human.