The Strength to Grieve: Navigating Loss with Resilience and Support
- Mark Pitcher
- Jun 23
- 40 min read
The Silent Courage of Grieving
"Real men don't cry." It's a phrase deeply etched into society's consciousness, silently dictating how men should respond to pain, sorrow, and loss. Yet behind every stoic façade lies an ocean of grief that demands acknowledgment. Grief isn't a sign of weakness—it's a testament to love, life lived fully, and the strength required to face the most profound human experiences. Embracing grief openly and courageously is central to modern positive masculinity, aligning physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual health.
Breaking the Silence: Why Grief Is a Strength for Men
A young boy hides his tears alone, reflecting how early "boys don't cry" messages lead to men concealing their grief.
From childhood, many men are taught to swallow their tears. Phrases like "man up" or "boys don't cry" echo through schoolyards and living rooms, conditioning boys to equate emotional suppression with strength. When that boy becomes a man, he may feel compelled to hide heartbreak or despair behind a carefully curated mask of toughness. However, denying oneself the permission to grieve does not erase the pain—it merely forces it into silence. Modern positive masculinity challenges these outdated norms by recognizing the silent courage it takes to face one's grief. In reality, confronting loss head-on requires far more strength than ignoring it. When a man grieves openly—whether through tears, talking, or seeking help—he is not falling short of masculinity; he exemplifies true courage and authenticity (Pollack, 1999). Psychological research supports this reframing: expressing vulnerability, like crying or admitting to sadness, is a healthy and often necessary part of coping with trauma and loss (Brown, 2015). It takes resilience to sit with pain and love perseveringly through it. By breaking the silence around male grief, we allow grief to transform from a private burden into a shared human experience that can ultimately cultivate empathy, wisdom, and even deeper strength.
Importantly, shedding the stoic armour does not mean abandoning all the traditionally "masculine" qualities like bravery or independence. Instead, it means expanding them. A man can be brave enough to cry independently and be sufficient to know when he needs support. Psychologists refer to this as adopting a "flexible masculinity" – maintaining one's core values of strength and responsibility but with the flexibility to express emotion and ask for help when needed (Kiselica and Englar-Carlson, 2010). In other words, seeking support or showing sadness is not a betrayal of manliness but an evolution of it. As one trauma therapist put it, men often "internalize stress and shy away from exploring their emotions" or try to solve and minimize issues on their own (Ponticelli, 2020). Positive masculinity encourages men to break that pattern. Men demonstrate self-awareness and integrity by acknowledging grief as a natural response to love and loss. They silently tell others: I am human, I feel deeply, and I am strong enough to share that truth. This vulnerability can inspire those around them and break the cycle for future generations. When one man stands up and says, "Yes, I hurt, and that's OK," it grants silent permission for countless others to do the same. In this way, embracing grief becomes an act of quiet leadership—modelling to sons, friends, and brothers that real men cry and emerge stronger for it.
The Hidden Toll of Unspoken Grief on Whole-Health
While staying silent about grief might seem like strength on the surface, internally, it can take a heavy toll. Unspoken grief doesn't just vanish—it often resurfaces in other forms, from mental distress to physical ailments. When men suppress emotional pain, their bodies and minds will find alternate ways to manifest it. For instance, long-term unresolved grief or "silent" sadness in men can morph into chronic low-grade depression (dysthymia) or irritability that lingers for years (Parker and Brotchie, 2010). Psychologists have noted that men who feel they must appear "fine" often end up channelling their hurt into anger, workaholism, or substance use, sometimes without even realizing it (Real, 1998). Anger and withdrawal may be more socially acceptable outlets for men than open sorrow, but they are merely masks over the same wound. Over time, these coping mechanisms can erode mental health and relationships. Research shows that men are three times more likely to turn to alcohol or drugs to cope compared to women (Canadian Mental Health Association [CMHA], 2025.), which tragically can worsen outcomes. In British Columbia, for example, 81% of fatal overdose victims are male—a sobering statistic linked in part to men using substances to self-medicate emotional pain (Canadian Men's Health Foundation, n.d.).
The impact of unprocessed grief isn't only psychological—it's also physical. The body remembers the trauma of loss. Grief triggers a stress response in the body that, if prolonged, can disrupt normal physiological functioning. Acute grief activates our "fight-or-flight" systems, flooding the body with stress hormones like adrenaline and cortisol. In the short term, this is a normal reaction (the racing heart, loss of appetite, or numbness one might feel after bad news). But when men refuse to acknowledge grief, these stress responses can become chronic. Elevated cortisol wears down bodily systems over time, contributing to high blood pressure, immune suppression, and sleep disturbances. Medical studies have even documented phenomena like the "widowhood effect," where the loss of a loved one sharply increases the surviving spouse's risk of mortality (Chen et al., 2022). In one extensive study of heart patients, those who had recently lost someone close were 78% more likely to die in the following week than non-bereaved peers, clearly illustrating how grief can break one's heart in a very real physiological sense (Law, 2022). And it's not just older widowers at risk. Men of all ages may experience physical symptoms of suppressed grief: tension headaches, back pain, ulcers or digestive issues, chronic fatigue – ailments that often appear "out of nowhere" but can be traced back to stress and sorrow held within (Parker and Brotchie, 2010). Doctors usually find nothing "organically" wrong because the root cause is emotional strain. As author Terrence Real (1998) poignantly observed, men's depression often goes unseen, emerging instead as aches, anger, or addictions.
Tragically, the ultimate toll of unacknowledged grief is seen in mental health crises and even mortality. Men worldwide are significantly more likely to die by suicide than women, and Canada is no exception. In Canada, about 75% of all suicide deaths are men, roughly 3 out of every 4 cases (Statistics Canada, 2023). This grim gender disparity has been called a "silent crisis" in men's mental health (CMHA, n.d.). Why are men at such higher risk? One major factor is that men, due to social conditioning, often suffer in silence. They may be less likely to seek support or express despair until it reaches a breaking point. The Canadian Mental Health Association notes that loneliness and social disconnection – common feelings for grieving men who don't open up – play a significant role in men's higher rates of depression and suicidal thoughts (CMHA, n.d.). In other words, it can become a deadly script when society tells men to "tough it out," and they internalize that. The numbers bear this out: women are about 3 times more likely to seek mental health support than men, while men are far more likely to let problems fester or try coping alone (CMHA, n.d.). The result is that men's mental health struggles often escalate unseen. The pain of losing a loved one, a job, or a sense of identity can push anyone toward the brink. But if a man feels he must keep that pain hidden, he effectively cuts himself off from lifelines that could help. It is profoundly telling – and heartbreaking – that even today, 75% of men say they cannot even confide in their close friends about their mental health issues (CMHA, n.d.). This means many men feel they have nowhere to go with their grief, no one to turn to without shame.
The cost of this silence is measured in elevated blood pressure, sleepless nights, broken relationships, and lives lost too soon. Canadian men, on average, live about four years less than women (Canadian Men's Health Foundation, n.d.). While multiple factors contribute to that gap, untreated mental and emotional health struggles are a significant piece of the puzzle. The good news is that these outcomes are preventable. As the Canadian Men's Health Foundation emphasizes, up to 70% of men's health problems are preventable with proactive lifestyle and mindset changes, including taking care of mental health. Grief is inevitable; suffering in silence is not. By acknowledging the hidden toll of unspoken grief, we underscore why it is so critical for men to embrace healthier ways to mourn and heal. When men permit themselves to grieve out loud, they protect their minds and bodies, reclaim control over their well-being, and rewrite what strength truly means.
Redefining Strength: Positive Masculinity and Emotional Courage
If traditional masculinity taught men to suffer silently, positive masculinity offers a powerful alternative: suffer openly and thus suffer less. Positive masculinity is about embracing the full spectrum of human experience – strength and vulnerability, action and reflection. It asks men to redefine what "tough" really looks like. Is it tougher to pretend you don't hurt or to admit that you do? Is strength better shown by "handling it on your own" or having the courage to lean on others when the weight becomes too great? Increasingly, men themselves are challenging old stereotypes and choosing the latter. Modern role models – from athletes to actors to everyday fathers – are speaking publicly about their struggles with loss, depression, or anxiety, proving that one can be both strong and sensitive. This cultural shift aligns with psychological insights. Researchers have introduced the concept of "positive psychology/positive masculinity" (PPPM), which emphasizes building on the strengths traditionally associated with men (such as courage, protectiveness, and problem-solving) while discarding the notion that emotional openness is a weakness (Kiselica and Englar-Carlson, 2010). In therapy settings, this approach has helped men to leverage qualities like loyalty and bravery in service of their healing—e.g. the courage to face painful feelings, the loyalty to honour a loved one's memory by talking about them, or the protectiveness to care for one's mental health so as not to harm family relationships.
One key to this redefinition of strength is compassion for oneself and others. The old model of masculinity prized self-reliance to such an extreme that any need for help felt like a failure. But in truth, allowing oneself compassion is an act of strength. Consider that in a recent Canadian survey, eight out of ten men said they find it helpful when someone asks them if they're having a hard time (Ponticelli, 2020). Men want that compassion and understanding; they often don't know how to seek it out due to pride or fear. Yet nearly 40% of those men admitted that during difficult times (like the recent pandemic), no one had asked how they were coping (Ponticelli, 2020). It's a poignant example of how men and their support networks have been talking past each other because of stigma. Positive masculinity bridges that gap. It says: it's OK for a man not to be OK and for those around him to step in and say, "I'm here for you, brother." Far from diminishing a man's respect or status, being emotionally honest can enhance it. Many women and other men report greater trust and connection with men willing to show vulnerability (Chuick et al., 2009). Rather than seeing them as "weak," people often feel these men display integrity and authenticity. The outdated caricature of the "strong, silent type" gives way to a more holistic image of a man who is not always silent and whose strength is measured in more than stoicism.
Crucially, positive masculinity doesn't throw out the concept of resilience or toughness—it evolves it. A positively masculine man still takes pride in being resilient but understands resilience differently. Instead of resilience, which means never bending or emoting, it means bending when needed and bouncing back stronger. It means doing whatever is effective to heal and move forward, even if that involves a therapist's office or a shoulder soaked with tears. Consider how firefighters or soldiers, among the bravest of men, debrief and support each other after traumatic incidents; they know that speaking about the fear or grief they felt is part of what allows them to continue their work. That is real toughness: facing and processing the darkest emotions rather than running from them. Indeed, clinging rigidly to stoic masculinity can backfire, creating a "tug-of-war" between a man's natural emotional reactions and his learned identity of control (Murphy et al., 2023).
On the other hand, a flexible masculine identity lets a man adapt to life's challenges healthily. If he needs to be self-reliant, he can be—but if he needs to seek counsel, that's equally within his strength. This flexibility greatly expands a man's coping toolkit (Robertson et al., 2015). Instead of only having a hammer (e.g. ignore the pain or drink it away), he suddenly has many tools: talk, write, cry, pray, build, exercise—whatever helps.
In summary, positive masculinity reframes emotional openness and help-seeking as acts of boldness rather than weakness. It aligns with the core Beyond Brotherhood view that integrated well-being—balancing the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual—is the ultimate mark of a healthy man. A positively masculine man striving to integrate these facets will inevitably redefine strength for himself. He will see strength in compassion, valour in vulnerability, and power in connection. With this mindset, navigating grief becomes not a contradiction to manhood but an expression of it. The man who can shed a tear and say, "I miss him so much," or reach out and say, "Brother, I need help today," is living proof that the strongest men have the strength to grieve.
Physical Well-Being: The Body's Grief and Healing
Grief is often thought of as an emotional or mental experience, but anyone who has been through profound loss knows it is a whole-body experience. Our physical well-being is intimately connected to how we process loss. For men, who might be less inclined to express grief verbally, the body can become the primary outlet for their pain, whether they realize it or not. It's typical for grieving men to experience symptoms like fatigue, chest tightness, headaches, or even sudden illnesses. These are not random; they're the body's way of saying "I am hurting" when the heart can't say it. Scientists have documented that intense grief can dysregulate the cardiovascular and immune systems (Stroebe, Schut, and Stroebe, 2007). This might mean higher blood pressure, reduced immune response (hence getting sick more easily), or stress-related conditions.
However, integrating physical well-being into grief isn't just about managing symptoms—it's also about using the body as a tool for healing. Men often feel most comfortable doing something. Physical activity can thus be a double blessing: it releases pent-up energy or anger and improves health and mood. Exercise releases endorphins, which act as natural antidepressants. Something as simple as a brisk walk or hitting the gym can drastically enhance a grieving man's day, even if it doesn't erase the sorrow. Many widowers or bereaved fathers report that starting a routine of walking, running, or weightlifting became a lifesaver after a loss—it gave structure to days that felt chaotic and provided a break from the mental agony. Movement is medicine. One fictional example might be a man who loses his best friend and channels his grief into training for a charity marathon in his friend's memory. Each training run becomes a time to think of his friend, to feel connected, and to let the emotions move through his body rather than stagnate. By race day, he's not only fitter; he has also spent dozens of hours honouring his friend through action, which can be deeply therapeutic.
It's also important to recognize the role of basic health habits in grieving. Grief can disrupt sleep and appetite—some men find themselves hardly eating, while others may overeat for comfort; some can't sleep, and others want to sleep all day. Paying attention to these physical needs is a form of self-care that grieving men shouldn't neglect. Sleep, nutrition, and hydration form the foundation for emotional coping. A man who is sleep-deprived and subsisting on caffeine and alcohol will struggle much more with mood and concentration, potentially complicating his grieving process.
In contrast, making a deliberate effort to get adequate rest, consume regular, balanced meals, and limit substances like alcohol (which, while numbing in the short term, tend to worsen sadness and anxiety in the long term) will equip his body to handle stress better. Think of it this way: grief is a marathon, not a sprint. One must train and care for the body to endure it.
Finally, consider the power of physical rituals in processing grief. Men might shy away from sitting in a circle talking about feelings. Still, they might readily participate in a group hike, a sweat lodge ceremony, or building something tangible as a tribute. Physical engagement can provide a gateway to emotional release. For example, some indigenous and spiritual traditions involve drumming, dancing, or sweat lodges to help express and purge grief from the body. Even outside those contexts, a man might choose an embodied ritual like lighting a candle and doing a moment of silence each evening or planting a tree in memory of the person lost. These acts involve the body and the senses—touching the soil, seeing the flame—and create space for emotional reflection in a way that feels grounded.
In summary, caring for the body is caring for the soul regarding grief. By paying attention to physical well-being, men can mitigate the harmful impacts of stress and actively channel their grief into healthy movement and routines. Every push-up, every hike in the woods, every deep breath taken in moments of pain is a step toward healing. The body can become an ally in grieving, strengthening a man's capacity to carry the emotional load. And when the body finally relaxes at day's end, muscles pleasantly tired from exertion, it often grants the mind permission to relax as well—perhaps even to feel a little of that sorrow that was locked inside and, in feeling it, slowly release it.
Emotional Well-Being: Permission to Feel and Express
Emotional well-being during grief might sound obvious—grief is an emotional experience. Yet, for many men, this is the aspect of themselves they have the least practice with. Emotional well-being in the context of loss means allowing oneself to feel the full range of emotions and finding safe ways to express those feelings. It's about permitting oneself to feel without self-judgment. This can be extraordinarily difficult for a man conditioned to believe that showing sadness or fear is "unmanly." However, emotions will demand to be felt one way or another. The choice is between healthily engaging with them or having them emerge in destructive ways (through rage, numbness, or breakdowns).
One helpful concept is that there is no "right way" to grieve. Every person's emotional journey through loss is unique. There may be intense sadness one day, anger the next, guilt on another, even moments of relief or strange peace. All of these emotions are valid. Many men feel anger during grief—anger at the circumstances or even at the person who died for leaving them. Some feel shame or guilt ("I should have been stronger, I shouldn't be crying like this" or "I wish I had done more"). Rather than suppressing these feelings, emotional well-being comes from recognizing and naming them. A man might say to himself, "I feel angry that this happened, and beneath that, I'm hurting." This simple act of acknowledgment can be freeing. It transforms amorphous stress into concrete feelings that can be worked through.
Expressing emotions is equally crucial. Expression doesn't always mean talking or crying (though those are certainly two primary outlets). Some men find comfort in creative expression—writing in a private journal, composing a song, painting or drawing how they feel, even expressing through a hobby like woodworking. The medium can vary; the key is that the emotions have some channel to leave the internal realm. Research on expressive writing famously found that people who wrote about their deepest feelings and thoughts surrounding traumatic or upsetting experiences showed significant improvements in emotional and physical health compared to those who kept it inside (Baikie and Wilhelm, 2005). For a grieving man, journaling each night about the most complex parts of his day or writing a letter to his departed loved one can function as a pressure valve for the heart. It lets out a bit of the ache each time, preventing an explosive build-up.
Many men also benefit from verbal expression once they overcome the initial hurdle of discomfort. Talking to a trusted friend or family member who can listen without trying to "fix" anything is invaluable. In these conversations, it's OK not to have eloquent words—grief can render anyone inarticulate. Simply saying, "I'm really struggling today" or "I miss her so much, I don't know what to do" is a start. Loved ones often want to support them but may not know how; when a man opens up even a crack, it gives them an entry point to offer empathy. And if friends or family are not available or a man feels unsafe being vulnerable with them, professional counsellors or support groups are an excellent option. Group settings might feel intimidating, but many men find relief in men-only grief groups where they realize they are not alone. Hearing another man speak of crying in the car after his child's funeral or struggling to get out of bed months after losing a parent can be profoundly validating. It breaks the false belief that "something is wrong with me for feeling this way." In truth, nothing is wrong—grief is complicated, and these emotions are natural responses to loss.
One fictional anecdote illustrating emotional growth: Imagine a man named Alex who lost his brother in an accident. At first, Alex tries to stay busy and not think about it. But he grows bitter, snapping at his wife and kids for trivial things. Recognizing this isn't sustainable, he takes 10 minutes each evening to sit alone and feel whatever comes. Some nights, he cries quietly. Other nights, he punches a pillow and curses at its unfairness. He also quietly tells his brother's old stories to his teenage son, laughing and crying at the memories. Over time, Alex notices the heaviness in his chest lightens just a bit after these moments. By giving space to his emotions, they move through him instead of staying stuck in him.
Emotional well-being in grief also involves self-compassion. Men can be their own harshest critics—berating themselves for not handling things better or feeling "weak." But grief is not a test of manhood; it's a test of love and humanity. Talking to oneself with kindness ("It's OK that you're upset," "Anyone in my shoes would struggle") is not indulgent—it is necessary. Self-compassion has been linked to lower levels of depression and greater emotional resilience (Neff, 2015). This might mean a man allows a day off work if he's in a bad place instead of forcing himself through and possibly breaking down. It might mean he forgives himself on days when he can't function fully. He nurtures his emotional health by treating himself like a dear friend going through the same loss.
In conclusion, emotional well-being for grieving men is about embracing the inner storm rather than fighting it. It means permitting oneself to feel every emotion, learning healthy ways to express those feelings, and extending grace to oneself throughout the process. Far from making a man erratic or out of control, this emotional engagement often leads to greater stability. Feelings, once felt and expressed, tend to diminish in intensity (or at least become easier to carry). A man who has cried, raged, and lamented in healthy doses can find a clearer mind and a calmer heart on the other side of those waves. In that clarity, he often discovers something unexpected: a deeper connection to his humanity and a capacity for empathy and love that is, in fact, the hidden gift of grief.
Mental Well-Being: Navigating Thoughts and Building Resilience
Grief doesn't only tug at the heart; it also weighs on the mind. Men dealing with loss often face an internal battle of thoughts—rumination, regrets, and questions about "why" and "what if." Mental well-being in grief involves guiding those thoughts constructively and developing resilience in one's mindset. This is where a man's problem-solving skills, often a point of pride, can become an asset or a stumbling block. Some men try to intellectualize their grief: they treat it like a problem to be solved or a challenge to be conquered. While this analytical approach can yield insights (for example, making sense of the medical reasons a loved one died can provide some closure), it can also backfire if a man starts to overthink and obsess about aspects of the loss he cannot change. A grieving mind can easily get stuck on a hamster wheel: "I should have done this differently… If only I had been there… Why did this happen to our family?" These thoughts are daily, but left unchecked, they can spiral into guilt or bitterness.
Maintaining mental well-being means practicing a degree of mindfulness and cognitive flexibility. Mindfulness is simply noticing one's thoughts without being completely swept away. A man might see, "I'm replaying the day of the accident for the tenth time today. It's making me upset, and it's not changing anything." That realization can be the cue to shift focus gently. Some find it helpful to set aside a "worry time" each day—say 15 minutes where they permit themselves to think about all those what-ifs and whys. When the time is up, they consciously redirect their mind to the present moment, maybe by doing an activity or focusing on their surroundings. Over time, this practice can reduce incessant rumination. Another strategy is cognitive reframing – finding a different, more helpful way to view a situation. For example, instead of "I failed to protect my family," a reframe might be "I did everything I reasonably could, and some things were beyond my control." Rather than "I'll never recover from this," one might tell oneself, "This is the hardest thing I've ever faced, and while I'll never be the same, I can find a way to move forward over time." These kinder, more realistic thoughts don't deny the pain, but they avoid mental traps that make grief even heavier.
An essential aspect of mental resilience is recognizing meaning and growth even amid loss. This is not to put a silver lining on tragedy prematurely, but in due course, many people find that surviving profound loss changes them meaningfully. Psychologists term this posttraumatic growth – a positive psychological change that arises in the aftermath of struggle. Common growth areas include a deeper appreciation for life, a shift in priorities, or a newfound sense of personal strength and empathy (Tedeschi and Calhoun, 2004). For instance, a man who loses a close friend might eventually decide to live more aligned with what truly matters to him because he's seen how fragile life can be. Another man might discover an inner strength and patience he never knew he had by making it through each painful day. Even a stronger spiritual faith or a different life purpose (such as advocacy or charity in memory of the deceased) can emerge. Actively reflecting on these possibilities can bolster a man's mental outlook. It doesn't mean dismissing the pain—instead, it means acknowledging that pain can coexist with growth. As Viktor Frankl (2006) taught through his experiences, finding meaning in suffering is key to enduring it. A grieving man might not immediately see any meaning in his loss (and that's OK), but he might create meaning over time. For example, if he lost a brother to suicide, he might channel his grief into working on suicide prevention initiatives, thus mentally framing the loss as a call to action that could save others. That sense of purpose can be mentally galvanizing.
Another pillar of mental well-being is focused problem-solving for practical matters. Grief often comes with a host of secondary stressors: managing finances after a spouse's death, handling funeral arrangements, taking on new household roles, etc. Many men find that tackling these concrete tasks can be therapeutic if properly balanced. Making a to-do list and solving one issue simultaneously provides small wins and a sense of control during a chaotic period. However, it's important that men also give themselves breaks from always doing and solving. The mind needs rest. Engaging in activities that absorb attention (like puzzles, reading, or playing a video game) can provide a mental respite from grief. It's not avoidance; it's about pacing oneself. No one can bear intense grief 24/7 without burning out. Even periods of laughter or distraction are OK – they're not signs one has "forgotten" the loss, just that the mind is protecting itself with intervals of normalcy.
Lastly, mental well-being can be significantly aided by education. Understanding the grief process can help normalize what feels like a very abnormal experience. Men might read books or articles about grief or hear from experts that grief is not linear and there's no set timetable (Morris, 2008). Knowing that what they're going through has been survived by others and that intense emotions or even feeling "crazy" for a while are typical can reassure the mind. It removes the fear that "I'm losing it" and replaces it with "Ah, this is a known part of grief." This knowledge gives the mind a rough roadmap, reducing anxiety about the unknown.
In sum, caring for one's mental health during grief is about finding balance: allowing space for painful thoughts but not letting them consume all one's mental bandwidth, challenging destructive thought patterns, and seeking meaning and knowledge to scaffold one's journey. It's training the mind to be an ally in healing rather than an echo chamber of despair. Whenever a grieving man reframes a negative thought, takes a mindful breath, or solves a small problem, he exercises mental resilience. Over time, those exercises strengthen his mind as physical exercise strengthens the body. A strong, flexible mind is better equipped to carry the memories of what was lost while still engaging with the remaining life.
Spiritual Well-Being: Finding Meaning and Connection in Loss
Spiritual well-being is a deeply personal aspect of coping with grief. For some, spiritual means religious faith – leaning on God, prayer, or religious community. For others, it might mean a sense of connection to something greater than oneself: nature, the universe, the legacy of those who have passed on, or values and philosophies that give life meaning. Regardless of one's spiritual or religious beliefs, integrating the spiritual dimension can bring comfort and guidance in the darkest times of loss.
At its core, grief raises profound existential questions: Why did this happen? What is the purpose of suffering? Where do we go after death? These are spiritual questions that humanity has wrestled with for millennia. Men, who may be accustomed to concrete answers, can feel especially adrift when confronted with the unanswerable. Embracing spiritual well-being doesn't require finding a definitive answer to these questions (indeed, many wise traditions suggest that certainty is elusive) but instead finding a framework or practice that provides peace and perspective. For a man of faith, this might be the time to revisit or deepen his faith practices. Many grieving men find solace in scripture, prayer, or the rituals of their faith tradition. Attending religious services, talking to a clergy member, or engaging in group prayers can alleviate isolation. If those align with one's beliefs, there is comfort in a higher plan or the promise of an afterlife reunion. Even the simple act of praying—speaking aloud one's pain to a higher power—can be a powerful release and source of strength. It's telling that across cultures, communal mourning rituals often have a spiritual component (such as saying Kaddish in Judaism or the prayers in Christian funerals). These rituals provide structure for grief and connect the mourner to a continuum of meaning that stretches beyond the individual.
For those who are not religious in a traditional sense, spiritual well-being might come from nature or philosophical reflection. Nature has a way of putting loss into perspective. Standing beneath a starry night sky or walking in a quiet forest can instill a sense of awe and connectedness. Many men describe feeling closest to a departed loved one outdoors—watching a sunrise their friend would have loved or sitting by a river where they used to fish with their father. In those moments, there is a wordless spiritual communion; whether one interprets it as the person's spirit present or simply the continuity of life, it can ease the sting of separation. Some may find spiritual expression through the ceremony: lighting incense at a home altar with the loved one's photo, pouring a drink, and setting an empty chair at the table to honour them. These gestures acknowledge that love endures even after death, a concept at the heart of spiritual coping.
Another aspect of spiritual well-being is grappling with the meaning of the loss. This is not to say "everything happens for a reason" – a phrase that can feel hollow or even cruel in fresh grief. Instead, it's about the mourner eventually constructing their meaning around what happened. Viktor Frankl, a psychiatrist who survived the horrors of a concentration camp, wrote that humans can endure almost any "how" if they have a "why" (Frankl, 2006). The "why" might not be evident in grief, but we often create it over time. For example, a man loses his wife to a rare illness; in his spiritual exploration, he might see his role as carrying forward her compassion by raising their children with her values, thereby giving her life a continued purpose through them. Or a man who loses a comrade in military service might decide that in honour of his friend's sacrifice, he will live more fully and help other veterans—thus, the senseless loss is given meaning by inspiring positive action. These narratives we build are deeply spiritual: they connect the past, present, and future and weave the loss into the fabric of one's life story to foster hope instead of despair.
Moreover, many men find that grief deepens their spirituality. Pain can break us open to more profound questions and sensitivities. For the first time, a grieving man might start meditating or practicing yoga to calm his spirit, finding an unexpected resonance in these practices. Or he might read poetry or philosophy for answers and find comfort in words that speak to the soul (perhaps the poetic musing that "what is grief, if not love persevering?" resonates, giving a spiritual reframe to his pain). Connection is a key spiritual theme: connecting with the memory or spirit of the lost loved one (some talk to their deceased loved one in prayer or thought), connecting with others in compassion, or connecting with one's inner self on a deeper level. Spiritual well-being often blossoms when a man can see that he is not alone in a cosmic sense—that there is a thread linking him to the person who died, other people, and the larger human experience of loss and love.
For practical spiritual support, men might consider joining a bereavement group at a local church or community center (which often welcomes people of any or no particular faith), reading memoirs of loss that incorporate spiritual journeys, or simply cultivating quiet moments of reflection each day. One might set aside five minutes to silently remember and converse internally with the lost loved one or to practice gratitude even in grief (e.g., "I'm grateful for the years I had with you" or "I'm grateful for the support around me today"). Gratitude, though difficult in grief, has been shown to lift the spirit and provide a sense of grace.
In conclusion, spiritual well-being in grief is about feeding the soul. It's about finding or creating meaning so that loss is not just an empty void but part of a continuum of love and purpose. Whether through faith, nature, ritual, or philosophical reflection, tapping into the spiritual dimension can help men transform their suffering into a source of connection. It reassures the grieving heart that love does not end with death and that one's own life still has sacred value and purpose. With that reassurance, a man can walk through the valley of the shadow of death with a light to guide him—a light that often comes from within, ignited by the very love that fueled his grief.
The Power of Support: Brotherhood and Connection in Times of Loss
Social support is one of the most critical lifelines for grieving people, especially men. Yet men are often the least likely to reach for it. Breaking through the isolation and connecting with others is both a challenge and a cure. When we talk about "brotherhood" in the context of Beyond Brotherhood, we're talking about precisely this: men supporting men, friends helping friends, forging a community where no man has to carry his burden completely alone. The old image of the lone cowboy, stoically riding off into the sunset with his sorrows, is a romantic fantasy but a real-life recipe for prolonged suffering. As the saying goes, humans are social creatures, and sharing pain halves it while sharing joy doubles it.
The statistics around men and support-seeking are telling. One Canadian report found that only 49% of men who experienced a mental health challenge (such as depression or heightened stress during the pandemic) reached out for any help, compared to 58% of women (Ponticelli, 2020). Many men don't initiate those conversations, partly due to the fear of being burdened or judged. However, consider the flip side: when asked directly, most men welcome the opportunity to discuss their struggles (Ponticelli, 2020). This means the intention and desire for connection are there; sometimes, the first step or an inviting space is lacking.
Creating or finding that inviting space is crucial. It might be as simple as a trusted friend saying, "Hey, I know you're going through a lot—let's grab a coffee and talk if you want." It could also be a more structured setting, like a men's support group or retreat, where sharing is facilitated. In these environments, men often find an unexpected freedom to open up. The shared understanding ("These guys get what I'm going through") can melt away the fear of being seen as weak. Peer support also leverages something many men value – camaraderie. Facing "shoulder-to-shoulder" challenges can feel more natural than a face-to-face heart-to-heart conversation. That's why activity-based support groups (like walking groups, sporting meetups, or workshops) are effective: men might start by convening for an activity and organically end up talking. For example, a weekly group might meet to do woodwork or go fishing, and stories and feelings about their losses begin to be shared during those activities. Such setups mirror how men often communicate – indirectly yet profoundly – and can lead to deep bonds.
Family and friends are another pillar of support. Yet, it's important to communicate needs because loved ones might be unsure how to help. A man might have to overcome pride to say to a friend, "Can you come over and just hang out? I'm having a rough night," or to tell his siblings, "I know we're all hurting, but I could use hearing some stories about Dad's happy moments today." These requests are acts of bravery. They also educate those around him that he wants to talk about the loss and that it's not taboo. Often, friends are relieved to be invited to help because they were tiptoeing around, unsure whether to mention the loss.
In the workplace, support might be communicating with one's employer or coworkers about what's happening. Many men hesitate to do this, worrying that bringing personal grief into work is unprofessional. However, a simple conversation with a supervisor can make a huge difference: it could lead to temporary adjustments, like flexible hours, workload reduction, or general understanding if the man isn't at 100%. No special treatment is needed—just human acknowledgment that he's carrying an extra load. Some workplaces have employee assistance programs (EAPs) that offer counselling or support groups; taking advantage of these is a wise step, not a sign of inability to cope.
Another powerful form of support is professional help – therapy or counselling. A skilled therapist provides a confidential, non-judgmental space to process grief. They can offer coping strategies and help unravel complicated feelings (especially if the loss was traumatic or the relationship had difficulties). Unfortunately, many men hold back from therapy due to stigma, but those who do go often report it was one of the best decisions they made. It's having someone in your corner whose only job is to listen and help you heal. That can be incredibly validating. Cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT), for example, can help reframe some of the guilt or regret thoughts. In contrast, grief-specific therapies might guide a man in finding ways to continue a healthy bond with the deceased (like ongoing remembrance practices). Therapists also watch for signs of complicated grief or depression that might need extra intervention.
It's worth noting the cultural shift happening: more men are speaking up about mental health and the need for support, which gradually chips away at stigma. Campaigns and organizations (such as HeadsUpGuys or Movember) specifically target men, promoting the message that reaching out is a strength. The more men hear that message, the more likely they will internalize it. Think of support as part of one's toolkit—no different than using the correct wrench to fix a car. If your emotional engine is sputtering, why not use the tools and helpers available to tune it up?
In concrete terms, a grieving man can harness support by creating a "support map." Write down the people or groups available: perhaps one friend is great for when you need a distraction and a laugh; another friend or a sister is the one you can cry with; a support group provides understanding peers; a mentor or elder provides spiritual perspective; an online forum might offer 24/7 anonymous sharing; and a therapist provides professional guidance. Each fulfills a role. By piecing together these supports, he builds a strong net. There is immense resilience in that network: studies have shown that social support can buffer against severe depression and even reduce the risk of developing complicated, prolonged grief (Hibberd et al., 2010; Lobb et al., 2010). In essence, connection is protection.
In summary, the power of support lies in turning "me" into "we." In the broadest sense, Brotherhood means no man has to carry his pain alone. Every shared story, every "I hear you, man," every warm meal delivered by a friend, and every shoulder offered to cry on reinforce a man's ability to endure loss. Support doesn't eliminate grief, but it changes the journey. Instead of a solitary trek through a dark forest, it becomes a hike with companions at your side, flashlights in hand. The forest is still there, but you can see the path better and have voices to keep you company. That can make all the difference.
Practical Exercises: Coping Strategies for Grieving Men
Understanding the concepts of integrated well-being is essential, but equally important is the practice – the day-to-day actions that can help a grieving man navigate his loss. Below are several practical exercises and strategies designed to engage grief's physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual dimensions. Men are encouraged to try these out, keeping what works and modifying or discarding what doesn't. Healing is personal, but action is often the antidote to feeling helpless.
Journaling "Letters" to Your Loss: Set aside 10-15 minutes a few times a week to write in a journal. One practical approach is to write a letter to the person who died about your grief. For example, write to your loved one about your days without them or things you wish to share. Alternatively, write a letter to grief personified – vent at it, plead with it, thank it for what it's teaching you. Don't worry about grammar or perfecting it; this is for your eyes only. Expressive writing has improved the mood and physical health of grieving people (Baikie and Wilhelm, 2005). It helps organize chaotic thoughts and releases bottled feelings. Many men find that these "letters" chart a journey over time – looking back, you can see how far you've come, which builds resilience.
The "Memory Vault" Exercise: Grief can make one fear losing memories. Take an hour to create a "memory vault" – a physical box containing photos, mementos, letters, or a digital collection of pictures and videos of your loved one. As you compile these, allow yourself to reminisce and feel. If tears come, that's OK; if smiles come, that's OK too. You are honouring the person's impact on your life. Once compiled, this memory vault serves two purposes: it's a safe way to revisit happy moments when you need comfort, and creating it affirms that it's OK to look back and celebrate the relationship, not just mourn it. You might even involve family or friends in adding to the box – a subtle way of sharing grief and joy.
Physical Release and Grounding: Grief often comes in waves of overwhelming emotion. Develop a physical strategy for those moments. One exercise is the grounding 5-4-3-2-1 technique: wherever you are, pause and observe five things you can see, four things you can feel (touch your chair, your heartbeat, etc.), three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste (even just your breath). This brings your mind back to the present and into your body, calming panic or spiralling thoughts. Another vital tool is deliberate breathing or muscle work. For instance, try this mini-workout when anger or anxiety surge: do as many push-ups or jumping jacks as you can, then breathe deeply for a count of ten, and repeat. You'll burn off adrenaline and likely feel more centred after. Some men set up a punching bag in the garage – when grief turns to rage or frustration, a few minutes of punching (with proper hand protection!) can exhaust that energy safely. Pair that with yelling or grunting if it helps – giving sound to your anguish in a private space. These physical releases prevent the build-up of dangerous pressure inside.
Scheduled "Grief Check-Ins": Trying to outrun grief by packing every minute is possible in our busy lives. But unresolved feelings will catch up. Instead, schedule brief grief check-in times. This could be 15 minutes in the evening when you sit on the porch alone, reflect on your loved one, or think about how you're doing. You might play a song that reminds you of them or look at a picture. Allow yourself to feel whatever comes – sadness, longing, even numbness. By scheduling this, you paradoxically gain control: you're proactively engaging with grief on your terms. Many men find that when they give grief its due attention, it's less likely to ambush them at random times. If you have children, you might do a version of this with them too: a small weekly ritual, like a candle lighting and sharing of memories. It models that grief is a regular part of life and something you attend to regularly, not hide away.
The Buddy System: Identify at least one "grief buddy" – a friend, relative, or fellow grieving person – with whom you can be completely honest about how you're doing. We agreed to check in with each other, maybe by text every morning or an hour-long call once a week. Use this time to report honestly, "This week has been hard because…," "Today I'm feeling a bit better," or "I lost it yesterday and cried in the car." Knowing someone genuinely wants to hear about your journey can be immensely stabilizing. If you don't have someone in your circle, consider joining an online forum or support group for grieving men. Sometimes, even anonymous sharing with sympathetic strangers can remind you that others are in the trenches with you. The key is not to isolate. When you voice your feelings or struggles, you hear yourself – it validates your experience and often reduces its intensity. Supporting your buddy on his hard days can be surprisingly healing, as it taps into your sense of purpose and compassion.
Guided Imagery and Conversation: This is a spiritual-mental exercise. Try a guided imagery conversation when you miss your loved one intensely or feel unresolved about something. Sit in a quiet place, close your eyes, and imagine your loved one sitting with you. In your mind, speak to them—tell them what's worrying you or what you miss. Then, pause and imagine their response as kindly as possible. What would they likely say to comfort or advise you? You might be surprised – often, our mind will supply a loving message in their voice ("I'm OK," or "Live your life—you have so much ahead," or "I love you, and I'm with you"). Whether one believes this is communication or just a psychological trick, the effect is the same: it can bring peace and a sense of connection. Many grieving people report that such exercises, or dreams of their loved ones, feel very meaningful. If it's hard to visualize, you can do this exercise by writing a dialogue in a notebook, alternating between you and your loved one. This technique can ease feelings of guilt or unfinished business and reinforce the idea that their love is still accessible to you in memory.
Honouring Through Action: Identify an action honouring the memory of what or who you lost, and make it a project. This is especially powerful for men who need to do something tangible. It could be building a bench or planting a garden in honour of a loved one, starting a scholarship fund or charity event in their name, creating a small scrapbook or video montage of their life, or even as simple as cooking their favourite meal on their birthday each year. If the loss is not a person but a career or relationship, you can still honour what it meant to you by commemorating the lessons learned or using that experience to propel you to help others. For example, a man who went through a painful divorce might volunteer to mentor younger husbands or contribute to an article about lessons in relationships. These actions channel grief into creativity and purpose. They remind you that even though something has ended, it can lead to the beginnings of positive deeds. You assert that grief can fuel goodness whenever you engage in this project. It gives a sense of agency: you are not passive in the face of loss but actively transforming its legacy.
These exercises are starting points. Some will resonate more than others, and that's OK. The important thing is to experiment with coping tools rather than letting grief dictate every moment. Think of it like a personalized toolkit: on a terrible day, maybe the only thing that helps is punching that bag and crying in the shower; on another day, a long talk with your buddy and looking through the memory box might bring relief. By trying various strategies, you learn what works for different facets of your grief. You also send yourself a vital message: I am working to heal. That intention itself is powerful.
Remember, practical coping doesn't mean fast-forwarding through grief. It simply means you are actively engaging in your healing process. Some days will still knock you down, and on those days, coping might mean simply surviving until nightfall and forgiving yourself for not doing anything "productive." That's fine. Other days, you'll feel the fog lift enough to do these exercises and notice a shift – a bit of calm, a release of emotion, a sense of accomplishment, or a moment of connection. Treasure those glimmers of progress; write them down even to remind yourself during the setbacks. Over time, these small actions accumulate into real change. The pain becomes more integrated into your life story than an all-consuming presence. Practical strategies give you structure in what can feel like a chaotic time. They are like ropes you can hold onto when the waves of grief threaten to pull you under. With practice, you may even find that you begin to guide others, showing a friend in need the techniques that helped you, thus continuing the cycle of brotherly support.
Conclusion: Embracing Grief as a Journey of Strength and Love
Grief is among the most challenging journeys a man can face. It tests our emotional endurance, physical health, beliefs, relationships, and identity. Walking this path makes it natural to feel weak and lost. Yet, as we've explored, grieving has profound strength when done with openness and support. Modern positive masculinity calls on men to reject the crippling myths that have long surrounded male grief – the myths that say a man who cries is weak or that sorrow should be borne in silence. Instead, it invites men to see themselves as whole human beings: physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual, all at once. True strength lies in integrating these parts of ourselves, not cutting any of them off.
In embracing grief, a man honours the love that underpins his pain. As counterintuitive as it sounds, allowing tears and heartache is a way of paying tribute to what was lost. It says, "This mattered to me." And to feel that entirely is to live fully. The journey through grief, when approached with courage and support, can reshape a man in remarkable ways. Many who come out the other side of a significant loss describe themselves as more empathetic, more appreciative of life's small joys, and more connected to others than before. They carry their scars not as emblems of defeat but as badges of a warrior who has been tempered by fire. As one widower shared after years of processing his loss, "I learned that tears made me no less of a man; they made me more human. And being human is a good thing."
This does not glorify grief or suggest anyone willingly chooses it; it recognizes that growth can occur within a struggle. Like a forest that regrows after a wildfire, a man's spirit can renew in ways he might not have expected. He may find a new purpose – perhaps becoming the pillar of strength and compassion in his family or community because of what he's learned. He might form unbreakable bonds with those who supported him or those he supported. He might even become an advocate or mentor, helping other men permit themselves to grieve, thus breaking generational cycles of stoicism.
Throughout this article, we wove in principles dear to Beyond Brotherhood: the idea that no man is an island, that community and brotherhood can heal, the idea that holistic well-being is key since neglecting any aspect of self leaves one off-balance, and the faith that inside every man is the capacity for tenderness as well as toughness. By blending academic insights with heartfelt stories and practical tips, we hoped to paint a picture that grief, as awful as it is, can be faced with dignity, support, and hope.
In practice, navigating loss with resilience might look like this: a man wakes up on another day of missing his loved one. He feels that familiar heaviness. But instead of automatically armouring up and pretending everything is fine, he takes a moment. He stretches, perhaps saying a quiet good morning to his departed loved one's photo, acknowledging the ache. He remembers he has tools – maybe he'll write in his journal after breakfast because that helped yesterday. He recalls a buddy's words: "Text me anytime." He decides today he will text because isolation isn't helping. He goes for a run, letting his bodywork through the tension. He heads to work, and when a colleague asks how he's doing, he doesn't lie with an "I'm OK," saying, "Honestly, I have good and bad days. Today's a bit tough, but I'm managing." At that moment, he doesn't break down; instead, he feels a bit of pride for telling the truth. The day continues with its ups and downs. That evening, he lights a candle at his dinner table, teaching his children to take a moment of remembrance for Mom. There are tears, but they're shared, making them a little less bitter. As he lies down at night, he practices a few slow breaths and perhaps says a quiet prayer of thanks that he got through another day. This day was not easy. But it was lived with resilience and support.
That composite scenario illustrates that grieving with strength isn't a single grand gesture; it's the accumulation of many small, brave choices. It's choosing expression over silence, help over pride, and hope over despair, again and again. Some days, one might falter and retreat – that's OK, too, because this is a non-linear journey. What matters is the general movement toward healing.
To every man reading this who is carrying a loss: know that your grief is a reflection of your capacity to love deeply. There is nothing unmanly about that; it may be one of the most profound affirmations of your humanity. As you navigate the dark valleys, you may also find peaks where the light breaks through – a kind memory that makes you smile, a hearty laugh with a friend, or a moment of peace on a quiet morning. These are the signposts that you are finding your way. Lean on your brothers (in blood or spirit), take care of your body and soul, speak your truth, and remember that inside you is the strength to grieve and, eventually, heal. In time, you will see yourself not as a man broken by loss but as a man shaped by it – deeper, more compassionate, and still standing. And that is a powerful, powerful thing.
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© Citation:
Pitcher, E. Mark. (2025, June 23). The Strength to Grieve: Navigating Loss with Resilience and Support. Beyond Brotherhood. https://www.beyondbrotherhood.ca/post/the-strength-to-grieve-navigating-loss-with-resilience-and-support
About the Author
Mark Pitcher lives off-grid in a secluded corner of the Canadian Rockies for half the year, drawing inspiration from the land's raw, primal beauty. It's from this deep communion with nature that his vision for Beyond Brotherhood was born. Mark is the visionary founder of Beyond Brotherhood – a wilderness sanctuary where men reconnect with their authentic power and heal from within.
He is involved with men's groups across Canada and beyond, including Wyldmen (wyldmen.com), MDI - Mentor Discover Inspire (mentordiscoverinspire.org), Connect'd Men (connectdmen.com), Illumen of BC (illumanofbc.ca), Man Aligned (manaligned.ca), Sacred Sons (sacredsons.com), UNcivilized Nation (manuncivilized.com/thenation), and Strenuous Life (strenuouslife.co). Through all these efforts, he remains devoted to mentoring males of all ages in holistic well-being—physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual—guiding each to find and live their purpose.
Grounded in compassion, Mark is a strong advocate for male mental health and suicide prevention. Knowing that men comprise 75% of all suicide deaths in Canada, he works tirelessly to break the silence and stigma that keep so many men suffering alone. Mark's approach to healing and growth bridges the ancient and the modern. He draws on Viktor Frankl's logotherapy, which focuses on finding meaning even in adversity. He complements this with Shinrin-Yoku (forest bathing) to immerse men in nature's calming presence, the invigorating shock of cold-water therapy to build resilience, and the ancient art of Qigong to cultivate inner balance and life energy. Now semi-retired, he continues to deepen his knowledge as a part-time student in the Spiritual Care Program at St. Stephen's College (University of Alberta), believing that a true guide never stops learning.
Mark is a leader-guide in every encounter, with a warm authenticity and magnetic presence. Whether penning a blog post or leading a circle of men around a crackling campfire, he leads with gentle strength, empathy, and unshakable passion. Mark invites you to join him on this journey of brotherhood and self-discovery. Follow the blog or connect with the community – every step is an invitation to reclaim your authentic power. With a future book on the horizon, he promises there is even more to explore. This journey is just beginning, and Mark looks forward to walking it together with you, always toward more profound connection and discovery.
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