We’re Not Meant to Grieve Alone: Why Grief Needs Witnessing, Not Fixing

Grief isn’t a problem to solve.
It isn’t a phase to pass through quietly or a wound to hide until it’s neat enough to be seen.

Grief is love turned inside out—raw, wild, and sacred. And yet, in a culture obsessed with speed, perfection, and false positivity, we’re taught to shrink it. Swallow it. Fix it. Move on.

Let’s be clear: That’s bullshit.

Grief Doesn’t Need a Solution—It Needs a Witness

When someone’s grieving, the most dangerous thing we can do is try to fix them. And yet, that’s what we’re taught to offer:

“At least they lived a good life.”

“Everything happens for a reason.”

“They’d want you to be strong.”

These aren’t comfort. They’re distance. They’re fear masquerading as care. Because let’s be honest—it’s uncomfortable to sit with someone else’s pain when you can’t do anything about it. But you can.

You can stay.
You can listen.
You can bear witness.

That’s what grief needs: to be seen. To be held. Not with solutions or scripts, but with presence.

Witnessing Is a Sacred Act

To witness someone’s grief is to say, I see your pain, and I won’t turn away.
It’s to make space for the stories, the tears, the silence.
It’s to sit in the storm without needing to calm it.

When we witness, we validate. We say, Your grief is real. Your love is real. You are not alone.

And that changes everything.

Why Solitary Grief Wounds Deeper

When grief is isolated, it festers.
When you’re forced to grieve behind closed doors, it becomes a private exile. Your own private hell. You start to question your sanity, your worth, your right to feel. You begin to think you’re broken. But you’re not.

What’s broken is a society that pathologizes pain instead of honoring it. That shames grief instead of revering it. That celebrates productivity over presence.

We are not meant to carry this alone.

Grief Is a Communal Rite

In ancient cultures, grief was a shared ritual. Mourners wailed together. Entire villages stopped to honor the loss. Grievers were tended to, fed, sung to. Because they knew—grief changes you. It alters your bones, your breath, your sense of time.

And no one should navigate that threshold without support.

What You Can Do Instead of “Fixing”

Want to show up for someone in grief? Here's how:

Hold space. Say less. Listen more.

Offer presence, not platitudes. Sit with them. Cry with them. Just be.

Resist the urge to rescue. Let their pain exist.

Validate, don’t minimize. “This hurts. I’m here.” That’s it.

If You’re Grieving, Read This Closely

You don’t have to be graceful.
You don’t have to make anyone comfortable.
You don’t have to explain your grief to people who haven’t earned the right to hear it.

You deserve to be witnessed—fully, fiercely, without apology.

And if no one around you knows how to do that? Come find us at Solace. We know the terrain. We’ve sat at gravesides, lit candles in memory, walked barefoot through grief’s garden. We don’t flinch.

We show up.
We hold space.
We walk with you—not ahead, not behind, but with you.

Because grief isn’t a weakness to overcome.
It’s a threshold. A rite of passage. A testament to love.
And no one—no one—should have to walk that path alone.