 Photo by Kristina Tripkovic on Unsplash When we hear the word grief, our minds often leap to bereavement – the heart-wrenching loss of a loved one through death. But grief is so much broader than that. It’s a deeply human response to any significant loss, and in a world shaped by uncertainty, we’re navigating more types of grief than ever before.
What Can We Grieve? It might surprise you to learn that grief can stem from changes that don’t involve death at all.
So grief isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s the quiet ache of no longer feeling at home in your own body as many of my peers and I are experiencing through menopause, or the silent sadness when a friendship drifts and you lose sight of someone who once was an integral part of your life. It’s the heartbreak of losing something you never thought you’d have to grieve. "Just because someone didn’t die, doesn’t mean we didn’t lose something important." The Hidden Grief of Modern Life In today’s fast-moving and often disconnected world, loss is all around us. Think:
For many of us – especially those working in social care or community roles – it's essential to recognise these hidden griefs, both in ourselves and in the people we support. Restorative Practice & Compassionate Connection As a restorative practitioner, I see every day how grief and loss shape human behaviour. Restorative approaches are rooted in empathy, active listening, and connection – creating safe, inclusive spaces where people feel heard and valued. Restorative practice doesn’t offer easy fixes. Instead, it offers the courageous presence needed to sit with someone in their pain, validate their story, and gently walk beside them as they explore what healing looks like. Learn more about restorative justice and its principles at the National Centre on Restorative Justice. Grief, Loneliness and the Social Work Lens Grief and loneliness often travel together. People experiencing non-death losses frequently report feeling misunderstood, invisible, or “silly” for feeling so deeply about something others might dismiss. For social workers and social care professionals, this understanding is vital. Unrecognised grief can manifest as low mood, withdrawal, aggression, or anxiety – particularly in adults experiencing chronic loneliness or social disconnection. I explored this with the Northern Ireland Social Care Council in 2025 and you can learn more about it in the resources released in June 2025.
Why This Matters By broadening our understanding of grief, we open the door to deeper compassion – not just for others, but for ourselves. Whether it’s:
Supporting people through grief isn’t about having the perfect words. It’s about showing up, listening, and staying present. And in doing so, we help build more resilient, connected, and compassionate communities. LJ Sayers is a restorative practitioner, trainer and consultant based in Northern Ireland. She is a wife to JP (her rock), a mum to J (her reason and purpose), a Covid Redundant Hugger, Storyteller and Chief Quality Controller of all chocolate in her household.
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 Without fail, at every single training session I deliver - whether it’s in a school staffroom or over lukewarm tea with parents - or with a manager someone will inevitably say: “They don’t mean it when they apologise. It’s not genuine. They just say it to get off the hook.” or any number of variations of these. My response is always the same. "Did you tell them how you were hurt? Or did you just tell them they were out of line?" Because here’s the rub: when a someone’s apology feels flat or forced, it’s not usually because they’re a sociopath in the making. It’s because a crucial part of the restorative process (healing the harm) has been missed - or (more often) avoided entirely. What’s Actually Missing From “I’m Sorry” Most apologies people give are admissions of guilt, not true repair attempts. They sound like:
Now imagine instead:
The Role of the Hurt Person in the Healing A child (or adult) can't magically know how their actions affected someone unless they’re told. So when a teacher, parent or manager tells me someone's apology wasn’t genuine, I ask: “Did you say how it hurt you?” Because that is where the repair begins. When someone who is hurt has the courage (and space) to say, “You scared me,” or “I felt humiliated,” it gives the other person a bridge to walk over. And yes, it can feel wildly vulnerable to say to someone who has hurt you:
Restoration Happens in the Mess Conflict is messy. So is connection. But we must stand in that mess with those people we care about, are responsible for and are connected to, whether that be our young people, our colleagues, or our friends. The circle - whether it’s literal or metaphorical - is where the learning happens. As Brené Brown puts it: "Vulnerability is the birthplace of connection and the path to the feeling of worthiness." And it’s in these moments - sitting knee-to-knee with a person who has hurt someone - that we model what it means to be brave, accountable, and human. So, Where Do We Begin? Start by teaching your children, students, colleagues, that apology is more than a word - it’s a conversation. One that invites the hurt person to speak, the person who caused harm to listen, and both to walk away feeling seen. LJ Sayers is a restorative trainer, mum to J, wife to JP, a COVID-redundant hugger, and the chief quality controller of all chocolate in her household. |
