How Men Deal with Grief
I have been asked if there is a difference between the way men and women experience and process grief. My answer would have to be, “No….and Yes.” On the one hand, there are many similarities between the grief experiences of men and women. Certainly both experience pain when they lose someone dear. And I have found that both men and women experience fear as an overriding emotion during the early stages of grief. Finally, both sexes experience loneliness throughout the grieving process, and especially so if the one lost was much beloved (for example, a spouse or child). I am reminded of Frodo (of “Lord of the Rings” fame)—some wounds never really heal. However, the negative emotions of pain, fear, and loneliness should diminish with time. In that sense, healing can and indeed will take place. But it takes time…

On the other hand, I do see differences in the way that men and women process grief. From my personal experience, it seems that women have a far easier time processing their grief verbally. In contrast, men tend to retreat to their “caves” to lick their wounds in private, or at least they are expected to do so. When I lost my wife to colon cancer in 2005, I searched valiantly for grief support groups 1) with a Christian perspective (I am a Christian, and this was central to my own healing), and 2) with other men as well as women in the group. Although I could find Christian grief support groups, groups with other men were not to be found. In the end, I settled for one in which I was the only man. Now, to be fair, I understand that widows outnumber us widowers something like 3-to-1. Nevertheless, I take this as symptomatic of the differences between how men and women process grief.

Please understand that I am not arguing that men should process grief alone and in private. Although there is an important role of private times during the process of grieving, I believe that both sexes must “do the work” of grief, and that this will of necessity involve verbal processing. In “Transforming the Valley of Grief: Men Finding Hope and Their Path Following the Loss of a Loved One,” I argue for many avenues of verbal processing for men, including conversations with family members, with close friends/accountability partners, with professional counselors if necessary, and yes, in grief support group settings. My encouragement to grieving men (and their support teams) would be in the direction of more verbal processing, not less. But please be aware that this may not be as “natural” for us men as it is with most women. We may need a bit more extra motivation/encouragement to come out of our “caves” and do the work of grieving.

I have been thinking recently about metaphors for personal tragedy. When I lost my wife to cancer, it was about the same time as the great earthquake and tsunami of 2004. Now on the heels of yet another Sumatran earthquake and tsunami, I find myself thinking again about loss and grieving in the wake of a personal tragedy. For me, the tsunami was the perfect metaphor for what I experienced. Standing on the shoreline, we watched the tsunami wave approach as we held hands on the beach, helpless to do anything against the impending crash of that unavoidable wave of misery. That mighty, awful wave grew, and filled the horizon. It came and crashed, and it devastated the life I once knew. It left me floundering in the surf, struggling for air and my very existence, fighting my way back to the beach of my life, which would never be the same again. She was gone, and I was alone,

In my book, “Transforming the Valley of Grief: Men Finding Hope and Their Path Following the Loss of a Loved One,” I talk about metaphors for grief, and that choosing an appropriate metaphor can be a helpful step in processing grief and moving forward in the Valley toward hope and healing. For some, loss comes suddenly and unexpectedly, in a tragic accident or with a heart attack. Perhaps a tornado is a better metaphor than a tsunami in such cases. For others, loss is a long drawn-out process of illness, decline, and the protracted “goodbye.” Perhaps being lost at sea in a leaky boat, slowly filling with water but going down nevertheless, is a better metaphor than my tsunami. Each man experiences loss in a different way.

Finding the right metaphor can be an important step in the grieving/healing process. And I am here to testify that God can meet us at our lowest point—floundering in the surf, emerging from the storm cellar to find everything swept away, or sinking in the depths. I refer to what ensues as a walk through “the Valley” (of the shadow of death). But take comfort in God’s promise found in Hosea 2:15—“I will make the Valley…a door of hope.” I did!