Why I’ve Decided to Get My Grief Coach Certificate
With my personal, and devastating, history with bereavement, I once believed I had a special ability to comfort others in their grief. After all, I had survived the horribly complicated spiral of my own losses. I had learned how to crawl my way out of bed again after the unthinkable. Surely that meant I would always know the right thing to say.
Then my best friend’s grandmother passed away.
She had been right by my side through my own grief; through the loss of my father, my grandparents, and my mom. She showed up for me in ways I will never forget. When it was my turn to support her, I froze. Even after all the loss I had experienced, I struggled to find the right words. I guess I had just assumed they would just come to me naturally. I wanted to say something meaningful, something comforting. Instead, I was left feeling helpless. And that moment stayed with me.
After my dad passed, once I slowly began to come back to myself, I knew in my soul that I wanted to turn my grief into something more, something meaningful. My dad dedicated a huge part of his life to helping others as a firefighter. He ran toward people’s worst days. His life was rooted in service, courage, and compassion, and that inspired me deeply. If I was going to fight my way through the pain of loss, I wanted something beautiful to come out of it. Helping others navigate mourning feels beautiful to me.
This calling isn’t new. I’ve been drawn to this work for five years now. Earlier this year, I started this grief blog and began connecting more deeply with the grief community. What I found was overwhelming and affirming all at once: hundreds, maybe thousands, of social media pages and communities born from the ashes of people’s bereavement. It makes complete sense. Grief is isolating, confusing, and life-altering.
And yet, despite how universal loss is, the support around it feels painfully scarce.
Why is it so hard to find a grief support group? Why is it so hard to talk honestly about loss, even with the people closest to us? Why is death and dying so taboo when it is inevitable and all around us?
When you’re in the depths of grief, these questions feel loud and unanswered. I remember wishing someone could sit beside me and say, What you’re feeling is normal. Your parents won’t be forgotten. There is no timeline. I wish I had a guide; someone who understood grief not as something to fix, but something to be carried.
That is why I decided to begin the process of earning my grief coach certification.
I want to learn more about the bereavement process. I want the tools, the language, and the confidence to show up for others when words feel impossible. I want to be the person I once needed; someone who can hold space without trying to make the pain disappear.
Today is my dad’s birthday, he would have been turning 59 years old today. And starting this journey feels like honoring him in a way. Maybe one day, I can help someone feel a little less alone in their grief. Maybe that will be one of the beautiful things that comes from loving someone so deeply, and losing them.
This is why I’m becoming a grief coach.
