What I’ve Learned About Grief
I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved Rob. Six years ago, I joined the world’s worst club when my older son shot and killed himself. He was 28. Rob suffered from depression, bipolar disorder, and alcoholism. After he died, it was my turn to find out what suffering really means.
In the first few weeks and months, I was gutted and in shock. So were my ex-wife, Caryn and my younger son, Zach. Our family had been destroyed. The whole thing seemed surreal—time was out of whack, nothing made sense. I was in a state of disbelief. And then, little by little, the anesthetic fog lifted and everything became clear and sharp and very real: Rob was dead. End of story.
I was walking around with a hole in my heart and just wanted the pain of never seeing him again to stop. I started to write about him every day—it was the only way I knew to grieve—and that led to my new book, A Space in the Heart: A Survival Guide for Grieving Parents. It also paved the way for some revelations, as did joining a grief group.
There’s a good chance that you’ve been fortunate enough not to lose a child, but I know you’ve been touched by grief. When you get to be our age, losing people we love is just part of the deal. If we love, we grieve. That’s the bargain we make for staying alive.
But the weight of it takes you by surprise, and so, for me, did the grief group experience. I’ve always been a textbook lone wolf. But I knew from years of therapy that I desperately needed to do something to help myself cope, and there’s comfort and power in being part of a group. Revealing your darkest and most intimate thoughts to strangers who truly understand—because they pretty much feel the same way—opens you up like you could never imagine. An unshakable trust is established.
Everything seemed different one night near the end of two years in my grief group, when I was struck by a palpable lightness in the room. We still talked about the rough stuff, but the tone of our voices had shifted. We sounded calmer, more self-assured, even hopeful. The vibe was nothing like what it was in the early days when we were all such hot messes.
In short, we were transformed. And that sparked what for me was an unexpected calling: I wanted to help others who were facing a similar struggle. The role of group leader and grief coach has turned out to be one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. It also taught me some essential lessons about grief:
Be Gentle with Yourself
I first heard those words at the end of the first grief group I ever attended. I had been beating myself up with all kinds of excruciating questions and it took a while before that advice sank in. The pain is intense and unrelenting and yet, at the same time, necessary. It helps you process the loss while keeping you connected to your loved one. What’s not necessary are the self-inflicted wounds. The ones we torture ourselves with, the ones that keep us up all night, the ones that cut the deepest. Your grief deserves your compassion. Your heart is broken, but there’s still room in there to love yourself.
Talk—and Don’t Forget to Write
I like to talk to Rob as if he were still here. Maybe you do the same with your loved one. It doesn’t matter if they can hear you. It doesn’t matter if they respond. What matters is expressing your love for the person you’ve lost. You loved them in life, you love them in death, you’ll love them until the end of time. Tell them that every day. Letters work, too. Writing to Rob helped me process what happened to him, what happened to us, and what happened to me. Writing documents your love and loss. Seeing your feelings come alive on the page connects you with your loved one like nothing else.
Surrender to Sadness
Grief hides in the shadows and creeps up on you when you least expect it. When that happens, here’s the trick: Don’t fight it. The worse your pain gets and the deeper you immerse yourself in that pain, the better and faster you’ll move through it. Avoiding it just prolongs the process of healing. It’s like the Supremes said about love: You can’t hurry grief. Grief asks more of us than anyone or anything has ever asked. The surprise of your life will come when you discover how much strength and courage has been hiding in your broken heart.
Let Hope Guide You
It’s hard to see sometimes. The sadness blinds us, but hope is always right there with you. All you have to do is reach out for it. Whenever you’re having a really bad day, wrap your arms around it and don’t let go. Hope is the light in the darkness. And as long as you have hope in your heart, everything is going to be okay because hope is everything. As Rob would put it, “Hope is dope!”
Originally appeared in the July/August 2025 issue of AARP: The Magazine.
Larry Carlat is the author of A Space in the Heart: A Survival Guide for Grieving Parents.