Grief is a subject that is not easy to speak about and requires a great degree of sensitivity. My most painful grief experience was when my best friend Jean, died on this day eight years ago. Today, I write this article to not only honour her memory but to also share encouragement with those who may be struggling with their own grief experiences.

I have come to understand that grief is not a static state of brokenness, but a dynamic process of re-ordering one’s life. It is a continuous journey of transformation that calls us to engage in a seemingly cyclical process of highs and lows as we attempt to figure out how we will show up and interact with the world after the loss.

The popular understanding of loss has relied on the five stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance as presented by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in 1969. Later, in 1982 in his book, Grief Counseling and Grief Therapy, psychologist J. William Worden introduced the tasks of mourning, a model that shifts the perspective of grief from an experience that happens to you into active, actionable work you must accomplish, framing grief as an active journey rather than a passive state.

According to Worden, healing requires navigating four distinct tasks:

Accepting the reality of the loss
Processing the pain of grief
Adjusting to a world without the deceased
Finding an enduring connection with the deceased while embarking on a new life

What I appreciate about this model is that it presents grief, not as an obstacle to be avoided, but as a path to be walked intentionally. There is a recognition that you do not "get over" a loss but instead learn to carry it forward into a new version of your reality. Picture a mud thatched house caught in a heavy storm. It’s possible that a portion of the mud wall may wash away, leaving a gaping hole. The house becomes vulnerable and is exposed to the elements. Though initially devastated, a responsible home-owner would not abandon the house. Instead, they mix new soil, water, and any other material required to patch the wall. The repaired section might look slightly different in texture or color, but it makes the structure whole and strong again. Grief is exactly like patching that wall. The loss tears a hole in your life, but the process of mourning is the slow, deliberate work of mixing new experiences and memories to rebuild your structural integrity.

And so what are some practical ways that we can allow ourselves to engage fully in the mourning process in order to restore our emotional core after a loss has totally shattered our sense of reality? Psychologists Margaret Stroebe and Henk Schut (1999) developed the dual-process model of coping with bereavement. They argue that healthy grieving requires moving back and forth (oscillating) between two different orientations:

Loss-oriented activities: crying, looking at photos, feeling the deep ache of absence, and directly confronting the grief
Restoration-oriented activities: learning new skills, socializing, attending to daily life, and building a future

True healing happens while navigating these two orientations. You do not need to cry 24 hours a day, nor should you ignore your feelings by overworking or constantly distracting yourself. It’s more practical to intentionally give yourself permission to do both. Spend an hour looking at old photographs, and then consciously transition into preparing a meal or running an errand. When I look back over the past eight years, accepting the reality of the loss and processing the pain saw me drive out to visit Jean’s grave a number of times, having loaded the car with a broom, a dustpan, a panga and a flower or two to plant on the grave. On some visits I went alone and on others had family and friends in tow. I remember visiting on what would have been her 30thbirthday with a slice of cake and candles and sat there feeling this deep sadness that she was not here to have the physical celebration with, but also oddly grateful that I can still continue to nurture our connection in a different way. As I sat there chomping away at the cake I couldn’t help but smile at the fact that I would still have eaten the cake alone had she been around, because she didn’t eat cake, and I felt a strange sense of comfort that even in death, some things still remain the same. I was also grateful to bring updates of new milestones I've achieved since her passing, among them, picking up a 16th-century instrument and learning to read sheet music. I often get this ache about how she would’ve been one of my biggest cheerleaders, attending as many concerts as she could, but I am quickly comforted that it is likely that she is always there with me in spirit.

I have also come to appreciate that grief is a shared burden. Another powerful tool for moving forward is communal storytelling where you get together with trusted friends and family members who knew and loved the deceased, to recount their life in raw honesty giving space for all to share their thoughts, feelings and treasured memories. Sociologically, this is known as biographical reconstruction. By speaking about the person collectively, you actively reshape their role from a physical presence to a memory-based presence. This greatly helps in breaking the isolation that grief often creates. I am eternally grateful to Jean’s mum, one of the strongest women I know, for consistently bringing her family and friends together every year to celebrate her birthday. We all lost someone we truly loved and yet, in the face of the loss, we gained a treasured community that allows us to honour her life and also build new lasting memories during the time we spend together.

Moving forward does not mean forgetting; it means integration. Just as a kiondo uses different colored sisal fibers to create a beautiful, cohesive pattern, your life story accommodates both joy and sorrow. The dark threads of loss do not ruin the basket; they give the final design its depth, contrast, and resilience. By treating grief as a process, utilizing communal support, and allowing yourself to toggle between sorrow and life, you actively weave a renewed future.