Being Seen in Grief: The Healing Power of Witnessing Our Pain
There’s a story from the northern indigenous villages of Australia that has stayed with me. When someone in the village dies, everyone moves a piece of furniture or something else into their yard the night of the death. The next morning, when the bereaved family wakes up, they see that everything has changed since their loved one died—not just for them, but for everyone. The world, in a way, is now different.
This simple yet beautiful gesture is how the community acknowledges that someone’s death matters—that their grief is mirrored in the world around them. This is how we heal—by acknowledging that grief is not an isolated experience but one that should be shared.
Witnessing grief is about more than just being there; it’s about allowing someone to see that the world they inhabit has shifted, and that others recognize and share in that shift.
The Importance of Witnessing Grief
Our emotions bind us to one another, and in those bonds lies the key to our survival. From the moment we’re born, we are wired for connection. This is why, when a mother smiles, her baby smiles back. This reaction is thanks to neurons in our brain that allow us to understand and reflect the emotions and actions of those around us.
Experiments have shown that when emotions aren’t acknowledged or reflected, it can cause distress. In one study, a mother and her baby interacted happily—smiling, laughing, and making eye contact. But when the mother suddenly stopped responding and adopted a blank face, the baby, confused, became visibly distressed, trying everything to regain her attention. This instinctual response stems from our need for connection and validation.
This reaction isn’t limited to childhood. As adults, we still seek acknowledgment from others, especially when we’re grieving. That is why even small moments of connection can be so grounding.
Just the other morning, while walking Luna, my dog—as I often do—I passed the familiar group of uncles at the coffee shop. One of them, as usual, called out, “Jiak Liao Buey?” (“Eaten yet?”). Now, I don’t speak Hokkien, but without missing a beat, I shouted back, “Jiak Liao!” It just came naturally. In moments like these, it’s not about the language itself, but about the shared moment—the recognition of each other in that space.
When Witnessing Feels Isolating
Of course, not every attempt at witnessing helps. When it comes to bereavement, even the most well-meaning people might say things like, “At least your loved one isn’t suffering anymore,” or “It’s time to move on.” These remarks aren’t intended to harm, but they often come from a place of discomfort and uncertainty. When faced with the helplessness of grief, people tend to jump in and try to "clean it up," make it smaller, and wish it away.
This is something I explore in another post, [What to Say (and What Not to Say) at a Wake: Offering Comfort Without Feeling Awkward]
The power of being truly seen in our grief allows us to feel less alone in our pain. When someone sits with us, not to solve or diminish our grief but to acknowledge the depth of our loss, it reminds us that, even in our most difficult moments, we don’t have to carry the weight entirely by ourselves.
If you found this post helpful, feel free to share it with someone who might benefit!
Warmly,
George Chan
This Is How We Heal
George Chan, MCOU, is a Counsellor, Grief Educator and Breathwork Coach who specialises in helping individuals navigate grief and loss through his private practice, This Is How We Heal. With a rich background in theatre and entertainment, George brings creativity and empathy to his work. When he's not in the therapy room, you might find him performing, choreographing, or working on a new production—or spending time with Luna, his Jack Russell Terrier, who doubles as his unofficial co-therapist and production critic.