Grief Expert: No 'Five Stages,' Just Your Unique Journey

When Dr. Lucy Hone's daughter Abi died in a car accident, the resilience researcher learned something surprising about grief. All her professional knowledge couldn't prepare her for how personal and unpredictable the journey would be.

Now she's on a mission to change how we understand grief. In her new book "How Will I Ever Get Through This?", Hone shares a truth backed by science: grief is as individual as your fingerprint.

"We don't all go through five stages," Hone explains, debunking one of the most persistent myths about loss. That outdated model has left countless people feeling like they're grieving wrong when they don't follow the expected pattern.

Her work extends beyond death to what she calls "living losses." Divorce, job loss, dementia, serious illness, all deserve the same compassion we give bereavement. Many people don't even realize they're allowed to grieve these life-changing events.

The research reveals something freeing: you can live and grieve at the same time. Some moments you'll function normally, getting kids to school or focusing at work. Other times the sorrow will wash over you completely. Both responses are healthy and necessary.

Hone offers practical tools for the hardest moments. When anxiety peaks at 2am, try running an ice cube above your upper lip or peeling citrus fruit and breathing in the scent. These somatic techniques pull you out of catastrophic thinking and back into your body.

She learned the power of routine while working with disaster response teams after the Christchurch earthquakes. Creating what she calls "islands of certainty" helps your nervous system dial back the fight-or-flight response during uncertain times.

Why This Inspires

Hone's approach gives grievers permission to find their own path forward. Instead of prescribing stages or timelines, she offers a toolbox where different tools work for different people at different moments.

Her advice for supporting grievers is equally practical: acknowledge the awkwardness instead of avoiding it. The silence hurts more than fumbled words. Say the deceased person's name, share photos and memories, offer specific help rather than vague "let me know if you need anything."

For those navigating their own losses, Hone suggests asking one simple question: "Is this helping or harming me right now?" Sometimes you need to sit with the grief. Other times you need to put on sunglasses and push through, returning to process feelings when you're in a safer space.

The permission to grieve imperfectly, at your own pace, in your own way, is perhaps the greatest gift this work offers.