By Joshua Binns, bereavement and spiritual care counselor, EveryStep Hospice

Editor’s note: We sent Joshua Binns, a hospice spiritual care counselor with EveryStep, a few questions to share how grief is misunderstood and how gender may play a role. Here are his written responses.

What is often misunderstood about grief? 

One of the biggest misconceptions about grief is that there is a “right” way to grieve. After walking alongside so many grieving people — and through my own experiences — I have come to believe that grief is as unique as love itself. Every relationship we have is different, so every loss is different. 

I often say that five people can lose the same person, yet each one is grieving a completely different relationship. Each person carries their own memories, conversations, experiences, hopes and unfinished moments with that individual. A spouse, a child, a sibling and a lifelong friend may all be mourning the same person, but the relationship they are grieving is uniquely their own. They are not only grieving who that person was, they are grieving the place that person held in their life and the future they imagined together. 

I have also learned that grief rarely moves in a straight line. We often hear about the stages of grief as though they happen one after another, but they were never meant to be a checklist or a timeline. Someone may feel acceptance one day and wake up angry the next. They may revisit feelings of sadness, denial or longing months or even years later. Grief does not follow a predictable path, and there is no finish line where it suddenly ends. 

Another misconception is that people who are grieving have plenty of support. In my experience, that is often not the case. In the first days and weeks after a death, family, friends and neighbors often surround the grieving person with meals, visits, phone calls and kind words. But as time passes, life naturally resumes for everyone else. People return to work, routines return and the phone rings less often. Meanwhile, the person who is grieving is often just beginning to understand the permanence of their loss. 

Many people describe this as one of the loneliest parts of grief — when everyone else has returned to their lives, but theirs has forever changed. 

One of the greatest lessons grief has taught me is that it does not disappear, we learn to carry it. For some people, grief softens over time. For others, it remains a lifelong companion that changes as life moves forward. Neither experience is wrong. Our goal is not to “get over” grief, but to learn how to live alongside it while continuing to find meaning, connection and moments of joy. 

If there is one thing I hope people understand, it is this: We all deserve the grace to grieve in our own way and in our own time. There is no perfect roadmap, only the journey of learning how to continue loving someone whose absence has become part of our story. 

How might gender stereotypes make grieving different for men and women? 

Throughout history, society has placed different expectations on men and women, and those expectations often influence how people experience and express grief. 

Many men, because of the expectations placed on them throughout their lives, were raised to believe they should be the protector, the provider and the one who stays strong for everyone else. Some have told me they felt they had to hold back tears because they believed showing emotion would make them appear weak. 

Many men also grieve through action rather than words. They stay busy, fix things, take care of practical responsibilities or throw themselves into work. People sometimes assume that if a man is not crying, he is not grieving. In reality, those actions may be his way of expressing love and coping with loss. 

I have also noticed that some men are reluctant to attend grief support groups because they have been taught that grief is something to carry quietly rather than share openly. After the death of a child, for example, much of the attention is understandably focused on the mother. Fathers can unintentionally become the “forgotten grievers” because others assume they need to remain strong for everyone else. 

But grief does not become smaller just because it is hidden. It often finds other ways to surface — through anger, withdrawal, overworking or even physical symptoms. 

Women are often given more permission to express sadness openly, but that does not always mean they have permission to fully grieve. They are frequently expected to become the emotional center of the family — comforting children, supporting relatives, organizing details and keeping daily life moving while carrying their own heartbreak. In caring for everyone else, they may have little space to tend to their own loss. 

I have also seen how differently society judges grief. A man who cries openly may be viewed as falling apart, while a woman who does not cry may be viewed as cold or somehow not grieving enough. These expectations can leave people feeling as though they are grieving incorrectly when they are simply grieving in the way that comes most naturally to them. 

What I have learned is that grief itself is not determined by gender. It is shaped by our personalities, our relationships, our life experiences and the expectations placed upon us. When we let go of the idea that grief should look a certain way, we create more space for healing, compassion and connection.  

How might grief look different for women because of the unequal distribution of caregiving responsibilities? 

One thing I have observed repeatedly is that many women do not have the luxury of stopping to grieve. Even in the middle of profound loss, life continues to ask things of them. Children still need to be cared for. Aging parents still need help. Meals still must be prepared. Bills still have to be paid. 

Because of those responsibilities, many women postpone their own grief while caring for everyone else. Their sorrow becomes quieter, not because it is any less painful, but because there is often little time or space to fully acknowledge it. I have met women who tell me they do not allow themselves to break down until late at night, after everyone else has gone to bed, because that is the only time they have to themselves. 

I have also seen how caregiving can leave women emotionally and physically exhausted. The combination of grief, responsibility and years of caring for someone can create tremendous stress and sometimes delay their own healing. For some, the loss of a spouse or partner also brings financial uncertainty, forcing them to navigate major decisions while carrying the weight of their grief. 

One thing that gives me hope is seeing the strength many women find through relationships. They often lean on friends, family, faith communities or grief support groups. Sharing their story and accepting support can become an important part of healing. 

At the same time, I have learned not to assume that someone is fully supported simply because they are talking about their grief. Many women still feel pressure to be the strong one, the organizer and the caregiver for everyone else. 

Ultimately, I do not believe every woman’s grief looks the same, just as no two losses are the same. But I do believe caregiving responsibilities can make a woman’s grief less visible, even when it is just as deep. Sometimes the people who appear to be holding everything together are the very ones who most need someone to ask, “How are you doing?”

The loss of identity and learning to begin again 

One of the things I have learned about grief is that it does not just change our emotions, it changes our identity. When you have shared years, or even a lifetime, with someone, your lives become deeply intertwined. You make decisions together, develop routines together, dream together and build a life that is shared. 

When that person dies, you are not simply grieving their absence; you are learning how to live in a world that suddenly feels unfamiliar. Many people describe this as learning how to live without the other half of a partnership. They are still whole and complete, but the shared life they knew has changed. 

The person who helped carry responsibilities, shared memories, celebrated milestones and walked beside them is no longer physically present. This often leaves people asking, “Who am I now?” and “What does my life look like here?” 

Grief asks us to begin again, and beginning again is rarely easy. It may mean discovering a new identity, learning new skills, making decisions alone and eventually giving yourself permission to move forward without feeling as though you are leaving your loved one behind. 

Moving forward is not the same as moving on. Love does not end because someone dies. We do not stop loving them, we learn to carry that love differently as we continue living. 

I have also seen how difficult this can be for women, particularly those who have spent years in a caregiving role. After the death of a spouse, parent or family member, some women instinctively transfer that caregiving energy to someone else. Instead of giving themselves permission to grieve and care for themselves, they begin caring for another family member, a friend or grandchildren. 

While caring for others is a beautiful expression of love, it can sometimes become a way of postponing their own healing. 

One of the saddest realities I have encountered is that many people do not even recognize they are grieving. They assume they are simply tired, anxious, irritable, forgetful or unmotivated, without realizing these can all be normal expressions of loss. Grief affects our minds, our bodies, our relationships and even our sense of purpose. 

I have also noticed that society often becomes uncomfortable with grief much sooner than the grieving person does. Friends and family usually want to help, but sometimes that help comes in the form of encouraging someone to “move on,” “get back to normal” or “get on with life.”

While those words are often well-intended, they can unintentionally make a grieving person feel as though their love has an expiration date. 

Sometimes people begin making changes before the grieving person is ready. They may remove clothing, rearrange belongings or encourage selling a home soon after a loss. These actions often come from a desire to help, but grief cannot be rushed. 

Whenever possible, I encourage people to give themselves time before making major life decisions. There are situations where immediate changes are necessary, but if there is a choice, allowing time can provide clarity. The first year is filled with “firsts” — the first birthday, the first anniversary, the first holidays and the changing seasons — all experienced without the person you love. 

Giving yourself space to move through those moments can help before making permanent decisions. 

Perhaps the greatest lesson grief teaches us is that healing is not about forgetting. It is not about getting over someone or replacing what was lost. Healing is about learning to carry both love and loss together, finding a new rhythm for life and discovering that while life will never be the same, it can still hold purpose, hope and even joy again. 

Joshua Binns is a graduate of William Penn University with more than two decades of experience in spiritual care, pastoral ministry and contemplative practice. He served for 10 years as an ordained Buddhist priest and monk and has 12 years of experience as a Christian pastor. Joshua serves as a spiritual director. He also serves as a bereavement and spiritual care counselor with EveryStep Hospice, where he supports individuals and families as they navigate the realities of death, dying, end-of-life care and grief.