The Myth of Closure: What If We’re Not Meant to “Get Over” Grief?

We all want some kind of finish line, don’t we?

It’s totally human. When we’re in pain, we just want to know there’s an end to it. We want a clear roadmap.

But if you’ve ever actually lost someone, a parent, a partner, a child, a marriage, a version of yourself — you know it doesn’t work like that. Closure isn’t always possible. And, honestly, it’s not even the point.

This came up in a conversation I had with Dr. Pauline Boss. She coined the term ambiguous loss and literally wrote the book The Myth of Closure. What she said landed so clearly, “You don’t get over it. You learn to live with it.”

You live with it. Not in a tragic, forever-heartbroken kind of way rather in an honest, human and I carry this now kind of way.

Some Losses Are Obvious. Others Are Invisible.

We usually know how to respond to what’s called clear loss, which is when someone dies, there's a funeral, and people show up with casseroles and condolences.

But there’s another kind of loss most of us go through at some point, and it’s way less understood: ambiguous loss. That’s the kind of grief that comes with no goodbye, no body, no death certificate. Like when a loved one has dementia. Or when a parent walks away but doesn’t actually disappear. When a relationship ends, but you're still entangled.

It’s that feeling of someone being here and gone at the same time — and your brain doesn’t know how to make peace with that.

This kind of grief doesn’t show up in obvious ways. It lingers. It’s confusing. It gets misdiagnosed or dismissed. But as Pauline Boss has shown again and again in her work, just naming it can bring huge relief. You realize, Ohhh... this is why I feel stuck. This is why it’s so hard.

You’re Not Broken. You’re Grieving.

One story Pauline shared really stuck with me. After her husband died, she went in for a routine doctor’s appointment. The nurse asked, “Are you depressed?” And she said, “No, I’m grieving.” But that wasn’t an option on the form.

So they asked again.
And again, she said, “I’m not depressed. I’m grieving.”
Still — no checkbox.

It says everything about how we treat loss in our culture. We want it to look tidy. Treatable. But grief isn’t a diagnosis. It’s a natural, human response to losing someone or something that mattered deeply.

So if you’ve been asking yourself, “What’s wrong with me?”
Maybe you’re just grieving and no one taught you what that looks like.

The Five Stages Aren’t a Roadmap

You may have heard about the five stages of grief, which are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Maybe someone even handed them to you after a loss like, “Here’s what you can expect.” And sure, they can give us language for what we’re feeling. 

But grief doesn’t follow a checklist. It’s not neat or orderly. And even Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, who first introduced those stages, said later in her life. “It’s messier than that.”

She never intended the stages to be used as a rigid timeline. In fact, she clarified that people don’t move through them in any set order and that they weren’t just about grief after death, but about all kinds of loss.

If Not Closure, Then What Helps?

If closure isn’t realistic, what’s the alternative? How do we keep moving forward when the grief stays with us?

1. Find meaning.
   Not why it happened. That question can make us spiral. But what can you do with it? Maybe it’s telling your story. Maybe it’s showing up for others. Maybe it’s making banana bread because baking gives your hands something to do when your heart can’t.
2. Adjust control.
   When you can’t change the big thing, focus on the small ones. What can you still choose today? What can you create, move, name, clean, write, cook?
3. Rebuild identity.
   Grief changes how you see yourself. You might not be someone’s spouse anymore. You might not be “mom” in the same way. That identity shift can feel like another loss. So give yourself time to ask, “Who am I now?”
4. Name the ambivalence.
   You can be relieved and devastated. Angry and loyal. Grateful and grieving. Mixed emotions are normal, especially in ambiguous loss.
5. Connect.
   Call someone. Text a friend. Join a book club. Talk. Grief needs witnesses.
6. Create new hope.
   This isn’t about “getting over” it. It’s about finding something new to look forward to — a sense of purpose or possibility. Something that helps you wake up in the morning, even if it’s just getting outside or picking up a new book.

Both/And Thinking Is the Lifeline

This is one of my favorite ideas and it’s something Pauline teaches beautifully:

Both/and thinking.

• I’m devastated AND I’m healing. 
• They’re gone AND still with me. 
• This hurts AND I’m finding joy again. 

It doesn’t cancel anything out. It makes room for the whole truth.

Grief lives in that tension where loss and love coexist, where sorrow and meaning hold hands. The goal isn’t to get to “either/or.” The goal is to let “both/and” be enough.

Closure Isn’t the Goal. Connection Is.

If you’ve been waiting to feel “done” with your grief — here’s your permission to stop waiting.

You don’t need closure.
You need truth.
You need people.
You need someone to say, “Yeah, this is hard. And no, you’re not crazy.”

Grief doesn’t end. But it changes. And you change with it.

You start to carry it differently with more steadiness, more softness, and sometimes even with joy.

You’re not doing it wrong.
You’re just grieving — honestly, imperfectly, beautifully.

And you’re not alone.

- Kristen D Boice M.A., LMFT, EMDR Trained

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