What you will find in this article on Men and Grief:
- Grief is universal, but men often face cultural silencing and isolation that creates unique challenges in male grief counselling
- Suppressing masculine grief processing leads to masked depression, health risks, and relational breakdown
- Men need alternative pathways through men’s grief support that allow action, ritual, and safe community
- True healing means carrying grief with dignity through proven frameworks, not “closing” it
“The only cure for grief is to grieve.” — Earl Grollman (1993)
I originally planned to write the fifth instalment of my Men and Grief series this week, but I am postponing it until next week. The reason for this is that I am listening to a series on grief by an American teacher. While her teaching is vital and insightful, her delivery style has left me feeling unseen and my experience of grief invalidated.
It confirmed something I know deeply from my own life and work with masculine grief processing: that as men, we often experience grief in ways that are markedly different from what is usually assumed or offered. Her approach reminded me that although grief is a universal experience, men need spaces and pathways where the expression of our grief is recognised and validated—not ignored or pathologised. It also emphasised for me the importance of my work: creating male-specific grief counselling spaces where men’s unique ways of navigating grief are acknowledged, legitimised, and given room to breathe.
Because of my experience listening to this workshop, I was reminded in a very practical way how vital it is that men’s experiences of grief are validated. That reminder is why I chose to postpone the next instalment of my Men and Grief series and write this reflection instead.
Grief as a Universal Human Experience
Grief comes with love. To mourn is to acknowledge the strength of a bond, making grief a fundamentally human experience that everyone will or has shared. However, the way we are allowed—or not allowed—to express our grief is influenced by cultural norms, gender expectations, and the silence that often surrounds men’s emotional lives.
In this article, I examine how men’s expressions of grief are often limited or misunderstood, and why creating male-specific spaces for mourning is vital for effective men’s grief support. Throughout, I share my own story as a grieving father, discuss my work mentoring men, and include psychological research that highlights what occurs when grief is suppressed instead of honoured.
At its core, grief is not a pathology. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler (2005) remind us that grief is not a problem to be solved but love continuing in a different form.
Research confirms that men and women grieve in remarkably similar ways. Stroebe, Hansson, Stroebe, and Schut (2001) show that the emotional spectrum—covering sadness, anger, yearning, and confusion—is consistent across genders. The neurobiology of grief—the disruption of attachment systems, the activation of stress responses, and the reorganisation of memory networks—operates similarly regardless of sex (O’Connor, 2019).
In simpler terms, our bodies and minds do not grieve differently just because we are male or female. They ache the same when love is torn away.
What varies is how society interprets, validates, or silences that ache. For many men seeking grief counselling, grief becomes what Kenneth Doka (2002) calls disenfranchised grief: mourning that is not recognised, legitimised, or supported by cultural norms.
The Silence of Male Grief
Why do many men resist traditional grief spaces?
Listening to the series on grief, the facilitator begins with a lengthy meditation—eight minutes of guided breathing, body awareness, and stillness. For some, this might have felt grounding. For me, it was unsettling. Within minutes, I was restless, disengaged, and even irritated.
In the years after my son Matthew died, that kind of space was risky and something I avoided. Being asked to close my eyes and dive into the raw centre of my pain felt dangerous. The risk was not that I lacked feelings. It was that I feared drowning in them. The intensity of my grief was such that I feared it would overwhelm and incapacitate me.
Many men share this fear when considering men’s grief support options. They are not afraid of grief itself but of being overwhelmed by its power without a safe way to manage it. And when the only “valid” pathways seem to involve tears, talking, or confronting what is already deeply painful, men often feel excluded before they have even started.
What appears to be stoicism is often a dam built against the flood.
Men appear controlled, not because they feel less, but because they fear the intensity of what might break through if they let go.
The Cultural Cage of Masculinity
From early on, boys are taught that vulnerability is a sign of weakness, that tears attract ridicule or pity, and that emotional control equals strength (Levant, 2011). As adults, when men do cry, their tears are rarely seen as a normal human expression; instead, they are often dismissed as a sign of weakness or framed as a display of “bravery,” as if showing emotion requires exceptional courage.
This paradox exposes the cultural struggle men face when seeking masculine grief support: their grief is never normalised. It is either stigmatised or exceptionalised—rarely accepted as part of being human.
“Grief thrives in paradox.” — Pauline Boss (1999)
Loss is seldom one-dimensional or straightforward. We can experience deep sadness one moment and unexpected laughter the next. We may mourn the person who is gone, yet also feel relief that their suffering has come to an end. At the same time, we seek both closeness and solitude.
These contradictions are not signs of dysfunction; they are the very fabric of grief. When we try to reduce grief into fixed categories—such as stoic males and expressive females—we overlook its complexity. We flatten a living paradox into a caricature, stripping it of its universality and depth.
What Happens When Grief Is Swallowed
Unspoken grief does not fade away; it ripens in the darkness.
It becomes what Francis Weller (2015) calls the unlived life: a fog that dulls vitality, narrows relationships, and smothers joy. It ferments, transforming into bitterness, irritability, or depression. What is left unspoken or unacknowledged becomes corrosive, seeping into our bodies, our relationships, and sometimes even into the next generation.
Psychologists refer to this as masked depression (Addis, 2008). The signs may include:
- Irritability and anger outbursts
- Overworking and compulsive behaviours
- Emotional numbness or detachment
- Physical symptoms without a clear medical cause
On the surface, the man appears strong; underneath, grief is eating away at him.
Research shows unresolved grief increases physical health risks, including cardiovascular disease, weakened immunity, and even higher mortality (Stroebe, Schut, & Stroebe, 2007).
Grief, when shared and acknowledged through proper men’s grief support, becomes the shadow that deepens love. However, grief denied transforms into a different shadow—one that dulls joy and passes unspoken pain to subsequent generations.
The Relational Cost of Silence
When a man’s grief is suppressed, its effects spread outward. Partners might interpret his distance as indifference or disconnection, when in reality it is a silent overwhelm. Children may observe a kind of stoic shutdown and internalise the message that feelings are dangerous.
Unresolved grief can distort intimacy. A man may fear being seen as “too emotional” or not emotional enough. He might become overly focused at work but emotionally distant at home.
Denied grief does not end with us. Epigenetic research shows trauma and unresolved sorrow influence stress responses in children (Yehuda et al., 2014). Sons inherit and carry on the belief that real men do not cry. Daughters learn that men’s emotional needs are less valid. Silence becomes an inheritance.
Male grief, when recognised through appropriate masculine grief processing, fosters greater trust in relationships. When a man can say, “I am still aching,” without shame, it encourages others to do the same.
Men, Grief, and the Labyrinth
In myth, the labyrinth is a place where we meet the Minotaur and emerge changed. For men, grief is such a labyrinth. At its entrance, we grasp onto stoicism, silence, or anger. However, further inside, these strategies break down. Loss cannot be outmuscled. It must be faced, not defeated.
Martin and Doka (2000) describe masculine grief as cognitive, action-driven, and often private. That does not mean men feel less; it means they often process differently—through action, tasks, or ritual. Stroebe and Schut’s (2001) dual-process model illustrates this oscillation between immersing oneself in loss and restoring life functions. For men in grief counselling, it may look like working all day, then lying awake staring at the ceiling.
The real risk is not in these differences but in the hierarchy we create around them. When tears and verbal expression are seen as the only “true” grief, men who grieve in different ways are silenced through shame.
True healing expands the options. It suggests there are many paths through the labyrinth.
Grief as the Shadow That Deepens Love
If grief feels overwhelming, it is because it is linked to love. Judith Herman (1992) reminds us that trauma recovery is not about erasing pain but about integrating it. The same applies to grief.
When grief is allowed to be expressed through proper men’s grief support, it becomes the shadow that deepens love. It shapes hollows within us that joy can later fill. It reminds us that love is precious because it is fragile, and that connection is valuable because it cannot be taken for granted. In this way, grief enriches our capacity to love more tenderly and gratefully.
Viktor Frankl (1946/2006) reflected that suffering, when given meaning, can become the foundation for growth. Tedeschi and Calhoun (2004) later referred to this phenomenon as posttraumatic growth. Fully confronted, grief turns into compassion, wisdom, and resilience.
As Kahlil Gibran (1923/1996) wrote:
“The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.”
Grief does not interrupt life; it rewrites it. It adds a shadow that gives depth to joy.
Healing Pathways That Honour Men
What helps men grieve safely through the process of masculine grief?
If grief is to be respected, we need many ways to approach it. Not just one door, but several. These pathways are not about ‘fixing grief’ as a problem. Grief does not simply go away. What they provide is scaffolding—solid supports that help men incorporate loss into their lives, rather than letting it consume them.
Embodied and Action-Oriented Approaches: Activities such as walking, lifting, carving wood, or engaging in physical rituals enable grief to move through the body (van der Kolk, 2014). These approaches honour the masculine tendency toward kinaesthetic processing.
Narrative and Meaning-Making Practices: Journaling about disrupted roles, memories, or values helps reclaim agency and make sense of things (White & Epston, 1990). Story-based healing offers a structured approach to navigating chaos.
Ritual and Symbolic Expression: Building memorials or carrying tokens creates tangible connections that honour the loss. These practices enable men to express grief through meaningful actions rather than solely through verbal expression.
Male-specific support communities that allow silence, problem-solving, and activity as valid expressions enable men to grieve authentically (Creighton et al., 2019). Research shows that fathers grieving a child’s death often avoid mixed grief groups but fare better in male-specific environments.
Witnessing Without Fixing As Weller (2015) reminds us:
“We must speak of our sorrow or we will water the seeds of shame.”
Safe witness turns isolation into solidarity.
My Work: Creating Male-Specific Pathways for Grief
This recognition is why I do the work I do. Through Mentoring Through the Maze, I create spaces where men can explore grief in ways that feel authentic, safe, and deeply human. These are not clinical rooms or sentimental circles designed for traditional male grief counselling approaches.
Grief often isolates men, causing them to turn inward and removing their sense of purpose. Many withdraw, not because they feel any less, but because they lack a safe space to carry the heaviness of their loss. In my mentoring work focused on masculine grief, the aim is not to ‘bounce back” to who they were before.
Resilience is not about return. It is about recreation—learning to live differently after loss.
Through the 3R Framework—Reclaim, Rediscover, Reconnect—men begin to:
- Reclaim their grief rather than bury it
- Rediscover parts of themselves that were silenced or lost
- Reconnect with new sources of meaning and relationships
In this process, men do not just survive grief; they develop a renewed sense of identity and a deeper, more grounded way of being in the world.
I understand what it feels like to be unsafe in grief spaces that demand immediate vulnerability, like the meditation session I cannot stay in. My experiences have shaped me and given me an understanding that men need spaces that cater to them differently—where practical anchors and clear frameworks are prioritised, where silence is accepted, where action is valued, and where tears, if they appear, are met with respect rather than pity.
Why is this important for effective men’s grief support? Because without such spaces, men remain trapped in isolation. Research indicates that fathers grieving a child’s death often avoid mixed or traditional grief groups but fare better in male-specific environments where their ways of mourning are recognised (Creighton et al., 2019).
When men feel acknowledged, something shifts: their armour softens, words emerge, silence transforms into companionship. Grief, rather than turning into depression or anger, begins to find meaning.
This is the essence of my work: creating spaces where men can grieve differently—not by avoiding it but by honouring it. When men grieve well, they not only heal themselves but also offer their families and communities a new example of strength: genuine, compassionate, and profoundly human.
Moving Beyond Gendered Limitations
If we aim to build inclusive grief cultures that genuinely assist masculine grief processing, three key shifts are essential.
Expand the definition of healthy grief. Healing does not always look like tears in a circle. It can look like sweat on a trail, words in a journal, or the quiet carving of wood.
Challenge cultural messages. Workplaces, faith communities, and families must dismantle the belief that men’s grief is weakness. We need to normalise masculine emotional expression as strength, not vulnerability.
Normalise grief as love continuing. Closure is not the aim, because grief is not a wound that mends itself. To seek closure is to chase finality, as if love could be wrapped up and stashed away. In reality, grief exists alongside love. What we learn through proper men’s grief support is not how to end grief but how to live with it—how to let loss walk beside us without taking over.
Closure is a word invented for the comfort of bystanders, not the reality of the bereaved.
A Call to Our Universal Humanity
Grief does not ask whether we are male or female, strong or weak, stoic or expressive. It simply asks to be felt. The question is whether we will cultivate cultures where all people—and especially men, so often silenced—can grieve without shame.
To grieve is not a failure as a man. It does not suggest we are weak, broken, or lacking control. It indicates that we are capable of love. Grief demonstrates that we have risked connection and allowed ourselves to care. In that sense, grieving is not a sign of weakness but of bravery—the bravery to be entirely human.
FAQs About Men and Grief
Do men grieve differently from women?
The experience of grief is universal. What varies is the social permission men have to show it, which is why specialised masculine grief processing methods are often more effective.
Why do men often hide their grief?
Because vulnerability is often seen as weakness, and pity can be unbearable, many men fear that once they begin grieving, they will not be able to stop.
What helps men process grief safely?
Embodied outlets, narrative practices, symbolic rituals, and male-specific communities where silence and presence are honoured alongside verbal expression in men’s grief support settings.
How long should male grief processing take?
Grief has no timeline—it is not a problem to solve, but love continuing in a different form. Focus shifts from ending grief to integrating it in a meaningful way.
When should men seek professional grief support?
When grief causes isolation, substance misuse, health decline, or relationship issues, male-specific mentoring often offers safer options than traditional therapy.
Key Takeaways
Grief itself is universal, but cultural norms shape its expression and manifestation.
Men often swallow grief, leading to masked depression and health risks that require specialised masculine grief processing interventions.
Action-oriented, narrative, and symbolic pathways offer authentic alternatives for men seeking grief counselling.
Male-specific grief spaces offer safety, pacing, and dignity preservation that honours masculine emotional expression.
To grieve is not to fail at being a man—it is to succeed at being fully human.
Transform Your Relationship with Grief
Ready to explore grief in ways that honour your masculine identity?
- Book a consultation to discuss male-specific grief mentoring approaches.
- Access resources for navigating masculine grief processing with dignity and strength
Men do not need to suffer in silence. They need pathways that meet them where they are.
About the Author
David Kernohan is the founder of Mentoring Through the Maze, a practice dedicated to helping men navigate grief, loss of identity, and disconnection from the soul through specialised masculine grief processing methods. Drawing on his lived experience as a grieving father and his journey of coming out later in life, David brings over 30 years of leadership across the community, mental health, and legal sectors in Western Australia.
Using tools like the 3R Framework (Reclaim, Rediscover, Reconnect) and the Compass Ladder, he creates male-specific spaces where men can safely explore loss, rebuild meaning, and reconnect with themselves and others through proven methods of men’s grief support.
David’s writing appears in his reflective blog Musings from the Maze, where he weaves personal stories, psychology, and myth into tools for men seeking genuine healing. His aim is clear: to help men reconnect with their strength, spirit, and humanity through research-based, culturally sensitive male grief counselling methods.
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