The Stages of Change Model of Grief

There’s a scene in “The Two Towers” (the second “Lord of the Rings” movie) where King Théoden receives the news that his son is dead. After Gandalf reassures him that his death was not his fault, Théoden replies, "No parent should have to bury their child."

I remember being profoundly moved and frightened by that scene; it stoked my own fear of losing my son. And it turned out to be a harbinger of things to come. On May 23, 2022, my son died from a fentanyl overdose.

If you are reading this because you have lost someone, welcome to the club you never wanted to be in. You’ve been put on a road you weren’t supposed to be on. But the fact that you are reading this is a very good sign. According to the Stages of Change Model (transtheoretical model), you are most likely somewhere between Contemplation and Preparation.

Contemplation

Recognition of the issue and thinking about making a change, but not yet committed to a plan.

Somewhere after the first year of losing my son, I began to look for help. A friend recommended Anderson Cooper's interview with Steven Colbert on his podcast, “All There Is.” Colbert's wisdom was the first time I felt something get through to me; I recognized that I wasn’t the only one to lose someone.

Colbert described his grief as a beloved tiger:

“I love this tiger and it's beautiful but it can unexpectedly hurt me. But this is my tiger, and I don’t want to get rid of my tiger.”

At times, our grief can feel like the only thing connecting us to our loved one. We may think, "If we really loved them, how could we be OK?" For me, not being OK was how I showed my love and loyalty to my son. For some of us, looking to the future and deciding to start healing can feel like a betrayal of our connection to the one we have lost.

Identifying My Grief

After listening to the podcast, I began reading books about grief. My first book was “It's OK Not to be OK.” Although it had good points, it didn’t fully resonate with me. I realized how differently each person’s feelings of grief can be:

Some of us will be more mad than sad.
Some will feel more shame and guilt.

For me, being "broken" was a testament to my love. My guilt around my imperfect parenting felt like justified punishment—It’s my fault and I deserve this. The problem with staying broken is it’s not a great way to live.

When experiencing such overwhelming pain, it’s difficult to tolerate anything else. Moving between contemplation and preparation involves identifying the griever’s deep need to stay safe and protected. After such intense anguish, it’s normal to avoid hurt. But after a time, this self-protection keeps us stuck. Until we face the emptiness and acknowledge our patterns of avoidance, we stay in our grief.

Grief means being in a place or situation we didn’t want. The worst has happened, and now what?

Preparation

The individual has decided to make a change and is beginning to make a plan.

“If you’re grateful for your life, then you have to be grateful for all of it.”

In this stage, we make a choice. It doesn’t have to be a perfect choice—just something different. A leap of faith. We begin to understand that true joy will always know deep sorrow. If you don’t process the grief, it can shut down the joy.

The griever has many choices. Being a therapist, the most likely choice for me would have been therapy, right? At first, I didn’t want it.

What can a therapist tell me that I don’t already know?

It is not uncommon for therapists to avoid their own work, but after meeting with my longtime supervisor (and sometimes therapist), I started to truly understand the depth of my guilt around my son’s death.

We are tribal, social animals, and the most profound healing happens within a community.

I needed to be around others who had also lost a child.

Action

The individual is actively making a change.

My wife and I joined a support group called Loving in the Trenches, where all the parents had lost a child to fentanyl. Our group had a true diversity of people and economic status. In that space, I began to open up to the idea that what happened was an accident and not my fault. Healing in community was an important first action step for me.

The truth is that grief and fentanyl don’t discriminate; bad things happen to good people.

Side Note: I did eventually find private therapy to be very helpful, and would highly recommend it. When possible, the combination of individual and group work is optimal.

Finding Meaning (The Sixth Stage)

“Finding meaning” is not a step in the Stages of Change Model, but it is considered the Sixth Stage of Grief by David Kessler, author and grief expert. Meaning is not about finding a reason for the loss, but about finding a way to keep your loved one with you, not behind you.

After leaving the support group, I decided to take Kessler’s Grief Educator Training, a 12-week course in learning how to support others in grief.

Finding meaning can come in sizes big and small. The ultimate archetype is the couple who creates a foundation and raises money, but there are many, often more personal, ways to find meaning:

Honoring through Action: Continuing your loved ones’ values or passions. (Example: volunteering at a shelter because they loved animals.)
Integrating Them into Your Present: Finding a new ritual or way to remember them daily, so they are part of your life today.
Transcending the Loss: Using the experience to gain deeper wisdom, compassion, or clarity on what matters most in life.
Creating a Legacy: Doing something in their name, whether it’s a large foundation or a simple, private act of kindness.
Connecting with Others: Supporting other grievers, which moves the pain outward into purpose.

Meaning is the one thing that can’t be taken from us. It is the final and most lasting way to love someone we have lost.

Let’s work together to find that meaning. Please contact me, or click here for more information on Grief Counseling.