Brooke’s Inside Voice

By Brooke Bertrand, MA, RP

The Weight of Grief in Reflective Seasons: What We Gain When We Talk About Loss

In reflective seasons, such as the end of the year, loss can feel heavier, closer, sharper, unavoidable. Grief can feel like a lonely experience and yet grief and loss is a quite common topic of discussion in the therapy room particularly as the year comes to and end. Speaking our grief gives this sacred feeling space and opens the door to understanding, connection, and healing. My hope is that this piece helps you see grief as a teacher of resilience and courage.

Learning About Loss While Sitting in the Therapist’s Chair

“Danny is gone.” I heard those words on December 21, just four days before Christmas. I was 16, and my uncle, a beloved, larger-than-life presence, had died suddenly of a massive heart attack at 49. It was my first real loss, devastating in its swiftness and excruciatingly cruel in its timing. That Christmas was hollow without him, and I had no idea then how far his absence would ripple through our family, or how much loss echoes across a lifetime.

Like everyone that grows up, grief kept finding me through life experiences such as leaving my home country to create a new life in another, identity change when I became a mother, job losses, friendships fading, lost opportunities. One particularly hard year, I was hit with loss on all sides, professionally and personally. I lost a young friend and young aunt after their long fights with cancer, my husband’s grandmothers, and my own grandmother, who died on my birthday. Every four months I was at another funeral; my heart barely mended before cracking open again. The hardest mothering moments (so far) were helping my children understand death; holding their little hands and helping them face love and loss, while facing my own sorrow.

Working as a therapist during that year of loss was especially challenging. Even though I knew better, I tried to outrun my grief by working harder. My clients never saw the cracks, but my family, colleagues, and the demands of my job certainly did. Eventually the strain caught up with me. Burnt out and overwhelmed, I stepped back. I took a short leave, went to therapy, relied briefly on medication, and relearned the basics of caring for myself. Those choices helped me finally face my grief instead of avoiding it.

Just weeks before my 40th birthday, I flew home to spend time with my maternal grandparents as they entered hospice. Though I was well into adulthood, this is when I truly felt myself grow up. Facing the end of life is a sacred, liminal space where love and loss walk hand in hand. I was with my grandfather when he died, stunned in this surreal space by how the clock kept ticking, how we kept breathing, as his chest fell still. A few days later, I said goodbye to my grandmother for the last time, memorizing every crease in her hand and the sound of her voice saying she loved me. She died 12 days after my grandfather; they couldn’t be without each other. Reflecting on this experience, I didn’t expect that caring for them at this sacred threshold, and for my family as we faced this loss together, would leave me feeling so vividly alive. What a painful, beautiful lesson.

Love and Grief: The Twin Currents of the Heart

We are built to bond, to love, and to hold each other close. Sue Johnson says, “love is a wired-in survival code.” Grief is the painful echo of those bonds when they are disrupted. Grief meets us at every transition, every type of loss, reminding us of our impermanence. Humans avoid grief because our brains are wired to protect us from anything that feels overwhelming or threatening, and emotional pain registers much like physical danger. Loss forces us to confront our deepest vulnerabilities: our lack of control, our dependence on others, and the paradox that the deeper we love, the stronger our bonds and the more vulnerable we become. No matter the type of loss, grief comes for us because that what we lose matters to us so deeply. Culturally, we’re encouraged to stay strong and “move on,” so many people cope by staying busy, shutting down feelings, or minimizing what happened. Avoidance can make life feel manageable for a while, but unprocessed grief doesn’t disappear. Instead, it settles in as anxiety, irritability, or emotional numbness. Some losses are incredibly painful to witness and carry deep trauma and their weight lingers in ways we cannot ignore.

Learning to Sit with What Hurts: Grief in the Therapy Room

Irvin Yalom, a preeminent psychotherapist, teaches that people come to therapy for two reasons: to ease suffering and to seek meaning. When I began my career, I expected to support mental health, explore trauma, and help reduce pain. What I didn’t anticipate, young and inexperienced as I was, was how often I would sit with clients in their grief and loss. Part of my unpreparedness came from how little my formal training addressed these deeply human, existential realities. Grief and loss sit at the edges of many therapy training programs, reflecting a culture that avoids them. It’s only through time in the therapy room, wise supervision, personal therapy, and lived experience that these themes become an integral part of a skilled therapist’s work.

Therapists talk about many forms of loss, not just the loss that comes with death. Clients grieve the end of relationships, changes in health, shifts in identity, unmet dreams, or the loss of stability and certainty. Sometimes the loss is clear, and other times it’s more subtle; a friendship that faded, a version of yourself you no longer recognize, a future you expected that won’t unfold. Most commonly, therapists bear witness to the loss of what we think we know about ourselves, and the world around us every time we face change. Naming these experiences helps people understand why they hurt, gives the grief legitimacy, and opens the door to healing in all the places we don’t always think to look.

Carrying Grief Forward, Together

Because grief and love go together, we are forced to reckon with a mix of painful and beautiful emotions at the same time. Grief and all its accompanying, tender feelings asks to be witnessed. When we gently turn toward grief with support and compassion, it softens, becoming something, we can carry rather than something we try to outrun. Speaking our loss gives both love and grief a place to live, helping us make sense of feelings that might otherwise feel tangled or overwhelming. In opening our own tender places, we quietly give permission for others to open theirs, too. Grief, when witnessed, becomes a form of shared care, a way of holding one another through life’s hardest moments. Each loss reminds us of what matters most, and each change invites growth.

As the year draws to a close, pause to honor the challenges and losses faced this year, both your grief and your love. Carry them forward into the year ahead with compassion, connection, and presence.

TLDR: Grief is heavy, love is messy, but here’s what actually matters.

Grief is universal and inevitable – Loss touches us all, and grief often intensifies during reflective times like year’s end. Speaking about it creates space for understanding and healing.

Personal and professional grief intersect – Life losses (family, friends, identity shifts) and the demands of work can accumulate, showing the importance of self-care and seeking support.

Love and grief are intertwined – The depth of our bonds amplifies both connection and vulnerability; avoidance of grief may feel protective but often leads to long-term emotional strain.

Therapy is a space to process all forms of loss – Grief isn’t limited to death; it includes endings, changes, and unmet expectations. Naming loss validates feelings and fosters resilience.

Witnessing grief strengthens connection – Sharing grief with compassion allows it to be carried rather than avoided, cultivating growth, empathy, and deeper relational bonds.

A couple's therapist who has heard it all… and is still betting on love.

Brooke Bertrand, MA, RP, owner of Bright Raven Psychotherapy and brings over 20 years of experience helping clients navigate relationships, anxiety, burnout, addictions, and relational trauma. Trained in Emotionally Focused Couples Therapy, she guides partners toward real connection—and even reaches those who never thought therapy was for them.

 Off the clock, she’s chasing two teenagers around hockey rinks. She believes life is lived best with humor, the love of cats, great books, good tea, and a great playlist.

 Brooke’s Inside Voice will bring common therapy topics into the public spotlight, exploring the issues that quietly shape our relationships. From mental health and the hustle of modern life to the joys and challenges of being human and seeking connection to ourselves and others, Brooke shares insights that help readers understand themselves, their loved ones, and the ties that bind us.