Navigating Grief and Loss: Therapy and the Catholic Theology of Hope and Resurrection

Peter Attridge, PhD, LMFT

Grief & Hope: Therapy and Catholic Teachings on Loss and Eternal Life


Grief is something that touches all of us eventually. It may arrive suddenly with the death of a loved one, linger quietly through the end of a relationship, or follow the quiet disappointment of a long-held dream falling apart. Whatever the cause, the pain of loss often arrives uninvited and stays longer than we expect. It can leave us feeling like the ground beneath our feet has shifted, upending our sense of security, meaning, and identity.


In these moments, therapy offers a way to make sense of the pain, to find meaning in suffering, and — slowly but surely — to begin healing. For people of faith, particularly within the Catholic tradition, grief is not something to be merely endured. It’s something that can be transformed through the lens of Christ’s death and resurrection. By combining psychological support with theological hope, the journey through grief can become not just a passage through sorrow, but also a path toward deeper love, connection, and peace.


The Complexity of Grief: Not a Straight Line


One of the most common misconceptions about grief is that it follows a predictable sequence. Many of us are familiar with the "five stages of grief" — denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. These stages, first introduced by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, are helpful in recognizing the emotions involved in loss, but they’re not a strict roadmap. Real grief is messy (see our blog article here). It doesn’t move in a straight line. Some days, you might feel like you’ve made peace with the loss; on others, a small memory can unravel you unexpectedly.


Therapists understand this complexity. In therapy, you’re given a space to express the full range of your emotions without judgment. That in itself can be healing—being able to cry, vent, or sit silently and just be seen. Many therapists use grief specific approaches to help people understand the depth of their emotions and develop tools to cope. These approaches focus not only on processing the pain but also on exploring the significance of the relationship that was lost and the meaning that can still be drawn from it.


For some, however, grief becomes more than sorrow. It becomes stuck. This form of suffering, often referred to as complicated grief or prolonged grief disorder (PGD), involves intense, long-lasting emotions that disrupt daily life and relationships. These symptoms can include persistent yearning, preoccupation with the loss, emotional numbness, or an inability to experience joy. When grief lingers and paralyzes rather than gradually integrates into life, therapy becomes not just helpful—it becomes essential.


In these more complex cases, the goal is to help individuals accept the reality of their loss while reengaging with life in meaningful ways. It’s not about forgetting or moving on. It’s about learning to carry grief differently—to make space for both sorrow and hope.


A Catholic Lens on Death, Loss, and What Comes After


While therapy addresses the psychological and emotional dimensions of grief, Catholic theology speaks to the spiritual side of the experience. Our faith doesn’t deny the sorrow of death. It fully acknowledges the pain of separation, the weight of absence. But it also insists—gently but firmly—that death is not the final word.


At the heart of our faith is the resurrection of Christ. This central truth shapes how Catholics understand death—not as an end, but as a passage to new life. In the Gospel of John, Jesus offers the words that echo across centuries: “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live” (John 11:25–26). These words are not a dismissal of grief; they are an anchor in the storm of sorrow, a promise that love is stronger than death.


This belief is not just abstract theology. It’s woven into the very rituals that surround death. Catholic funeral rites, including the Vigil, the Funeral Mass, and the Rite of Committal, are structured to help mourners grieve, pray, and hope. The Mass of Christian Burial is both a farewell and a celebration. It entrusts the soul of the deceased to God’s mercy while comforting those left behind with prayers, Scripture, and the Eucharist—a visible sign of Christ’s victory over death.


We also draw comfort from the communion of saints—the belief that the faithful, living and deceased, remain united in Christ. This sense of connection helps many people feel that their loved ones are not lost to them, but remain close in spirit, interceding and awaiting reunion in eternal life. It transforms the relationship, but it does not sever it.


According to The Catholic Free Press, prayer during and after the funeral, the support of the faith community, and the hope of resurrection all contribute to easing the sting of grief. This hope doesn’t erase the sadness, but it surrounds it with meaning.


Finding Healing in the Integration of Therapy and Faith


What’s truly powerful is the way that therapy and faith can work together in times of loss. You don’t have to choose between the two. In fact, integrating both can offer the most comprehensive support. Therapy provides the space to wrestle with painful emotions, while faith gives language to mystery, sorrow, and redemption.


Some therapists incorporate a client’s spiritual beliefs directly into the therapeutic process. A Catholic might be invited to reflect on Scripture, to write a letter to their loved one as a form of prayer, or to explore the concept of redemptive suffering—that even in our pain, we are united with Christ. These spiritual practices can offer comfort and a sense of sacredness during a time that might otherwise feel chaotic and empty.


Faith can also inspire action in grief. Many people find healing in honoring their loved one through acts of love and service—volunteering, creating something meaningful, or simply continuing traditions that keep memories alive. These acts don’t make the grief go away, but they help reframe it as something that can shape your life with beauty and purpose.


Community plays a vital role here too. Being part of a parish, attending grief support groups, or simply leaning on trusted friends in faith can make an incredible difference. Shared prayer, communal rituals, and simply being around others who “get it” can bring relief that is both emotional and spiritual.


Moving Through Grief Toward New Life


It’s important to remember that healing doesn’t mean forgetting. Love doesn’t end when someone dies. It changes form. Grief is a sign of love, and love, in the Catholic tradition, is eternal.


This perspective is beautifully echoed in the words of St. Augustine: “If you knew the gift of God and what heaven is... wipe away your tears and weep no more if you love me” (Our Sunday Visitor). These aren’t instructions to suppress sorrow, but reminders that death is not the end of the story.


When we allow ourselves to grieve fully, supported by therapy and guided by faith, we begin to see how grief itself can be transformed. It doesn’t go away, but it becomes lighter, more manageable. It makes room for joy again, for connection, and for a deeper appreciation of the people still present in our lives.


In time, those who grieve may find themselves living not in spite of loss, but in honor of it—carrying forward the love they received, guided by the hope of eternal reunion, and strengthened by the compassionate tools of therapy and the enduring promises of their faith.


Final Reflection


Grief will never be easy, but it can be holy. It can be a time of brokenness and also of deep transformation. With the help of compassionate therapists and the enduring light of Catholic hope, it is possible to find meaning, peace, and even renewal in the shadow of loss.


You don’t have to go through this alone. Whether it’s sitting with a therapist, lighting a candle at Mass, whispering a prayer through tears, or simply reaching out to someone who understands—every small step matters. Together, therapy and Catholic theology remind us that grief is not a sign of weakness or failure. It is a testament to love. And love, in the end, is what endures.


Healing begins with connection—and taking the first step can be the hardest part. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, stuck, or simply curious about how therapy could help, we invite you to connect with us at Holy Family Counseling Center. Our team is here to listen, support, and walk alongside you with care and intention. Send us a message or give us a call—we’re ready when you are.



By Peter Attridge, PhD, LMFT January 16, 2026
As the calendar turns and the glitter of the Christmas Season begins to settle into the quiet, gray periphery of January, there is a collective pressure to "reset". We are inundated with messages about the "New You", usually packaged in the form of rigid resolutions or the sudden, frantic desire to fix everything that felt broken in the previous year. As a therapist, I often see the fallout of this "Resolution Culture" in my office. By the second or third week of January, many of my clients feel a sense of premature failure. They set a bar based on a fleeting burst of midnight motivation, and when the reality of daily life—the fatigue, the stress, the old habits—returns, they feel more discouraged than they did in December. This year, I want to invite you to step away from the secular treadmill of self-improvement and instead lean into the liturgical rhythm of the Church. We are currently in the season of Epiphany , a time that offers a much more compassionate and profound framework for personal growth than any gym membership or habit-tracker ever could. Moving Beyond the New Year, New Me Myth One problem with New Year’s resolutions is that they are often rooted in a rejection of self. We look at our flaws and say, "I must delete this version of myself and install a better one". From both a psychological and a Catholic perspective, this is a flawed starting point. In therapy, we know that true, lasting change doesn't come from self-hatred; it comes from integration . In Catholic teaching, we are reminded that we are already "fearfully and wonderfully made". Our goal isn't to become someone else, but to become more fully who God created us to be. Instead of resolutions, let’s look at this time of year from a different perspective, that of the Epiphany —the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles, represented by the journey of the Magi. The Wisdom of the Magi: A Different Kind of Journey The journey of the Wise Men wasn't a race; it was a long, arduous, and patient trek guided by a singular light. They didn't have a 12-step plan to change who they were; they had a star. 1. Finding Your "Star" (Values vs. Goals) In clinical practice, we often distinguish between goals and values. A goal is something you can check off a list (e.g., lose ten pounds). A value is a direction you move in (e.g., caring for the temple of the Holy Spirit). The Magi followed a star—a distant, steady light. They didn't reach it in a day. As you look at this new year, ask yourself: What is my star? Is it a deeper capacity for patience? Is it a commitment to silence? Is it the courage to set boundaries that protect your peace? When we focus on the "star" (the value) rather than a rigid "resolution" (the goal), we allow room for the journey to be messy. If the Magi took a wrong turn, they didn't go home; they looked back up at the sky and corrected their course. 2. The Gifts: Inventory, Not Deletion The Magi brought gold, frankincense, and myrrh. They brought what they had. In this season, I encourage you to do a "Soul Inventory." Instead of looking at what you lack, look at what you are carrying. What are the "gifts" of your personality? What are the "myrrhs"—the bitter pains or griefs—that you are currently holding? In the therapeutic process, we bring these things into the light. In the Catholic tradition, we offer them to the Christ Child. Nothing is wasted. Even your struggles are gifts in the sense that they are the raw material God uses for your sanctification. Epiphany as a Bridge to Lent Many people see January as a vacuum and February as a countdown to Lent. But the Church, in her wisdom, uses this time as a bridge. Epiphany is about revelation —seeing things as they truly are. If Lent is the season of "doing" (e.g., fasting, almsgiving, prayer), then the weeks following Epiphany are the season of "seeing." You cannot effectively fast from a habit if you don't understand the hunger it’s trying to fill. You cannot give alms with a joyful heart if you haven't recognized the abundance God has already given you. Preparing the Soil Think of this time as "tilling the soil." Before a farmer plants (Lent), he must clear the rocks and turn the earth. This is the psychological work of January and February. Observation without Judgment: Spend these weeks simply noticing your patterns. When do you feel most anxious? When do you feel most distant from God? Don't try to fix it yet. Just see it. The Power of Another Way: After meeting Jesus, the Magi "departed for their country by another way" (Matthew 2:12). This is a beautiful metaphor for the therapeutic journey. Once you encounter the truth—whether in the confessional or the therapist’s chair—you cannot simply go back to the old routes. You are invited to find a "new way" home. Practical Soul-Work for the Season Since we are moving away from the pressure of resolutions, how do we actually use this time? Here are a few "low-pressure, high-grace" suggestions for the weeks ahead: 1. Practice The Examen - St. Ignatius of Loyola gave us a brilliant psychological tool in the Daily Examen. At the end of the day, don't list your failures. Instead, ask: Where did I see God's light today? * Where did I turn away from it? This builds the "muscle" of awareness that you will need when Lent arrives. 2. Identify Your "Herod" - In the Epiphany story, Herod represents the ego, the fear, and the desire for control that feels threatened by the "New King" (grace). What is the Herod in your life right now? Is it a need for perfection? Is it a specific resentment you’re clinging to? Recognizing your internal Herod is the first step toward preventing it from sabotaging your spiritual growth. 3. Rest as a Spiritual Discipline - The Magi traveled far, but they also stopped. Our culture demands constant production. But in the quiet of winter, the earth rests. Allow yourself a Sabbath of the Mind. If you are feeling burnt out, the most Catholic and psychologically sound thing you can do isn't to add a new prayer routine, but to sleep an extra hour and acknowledge your human limitations. We are creatures, not the Creator. Looking Toward the Desert Soon enough, the ashes will be placed on our foreheads, and we will enter the desert of Lent. But we don't have to rush there. If we spend this Epiphany season truly following our "star"—seeking the truth of who we are and who Christ is—we won't enter Lent out of a sense of should or guilt. Instead, we will enter Lent like people who have seen a Great Light. We will fast because we’ve realized we are hungry for something better than what the world offers. We will pray because we’ve realized we can’t make the journey alone. A Final Thought from the Couch If you find yourself struggling this January—if the New Year energy feels more like a heavy weight than a fresh start—take a deep breath. You are not a project to be solved. You are a person to be loved. The Magi didn't find a palace; they found a child in a humble, probably messy, stable. God meets you in the messy stable of your current life—not the perfected palace of your resolutions. This year, let’s stop trying to resolve our lives and start trying to reveal them. Let the light of the Epiphany show you the way, one small, patient step at a time. Walking Together at Holy Family Counseling Center If navigating these internal movements feels overwhelming, remember that you don’t have to follow the star alone. At Holy Family Counseling Center , we specialize in walking alongside individuals and families as they integrate their psychological health with their Catholic faith. Whether you are struggling to identify your Herod or simply need a safe space to process the myrrh in your life, our clinicians are here to help you find that other way toward healing and peace.
By Peter Attridge, PhD November 11, 2025
As a Catholic therapist, I often sit with clients who are wrestling with a deeply human question: When is it the right time to make amends ? Whether it’s reaching out to someone who has hurt them, or considering their own responsibility in a fractured relationship, the process of healing often leads us into the tender territory of reconciliation. But forgiveness and reconciliation aren’t the same thing. Forgiveness is something we’re called to offer freely—an act of the will that releases resentment and gives us peace, even when the other person hasn’t apologized. Reconciliation, on the other hand, is a step that involves two people. And discerning when—or even if—that step should be taken requires wisdom, prayer, and often, boundaries. Let’s explore how we can approach this process with care and courage, supported by both therapeutic tools and the richness of our Catholic faith. Discerning the Right Time to Make Amends Discernment is a familiar concept in Catholic life. We use it to seek God's will in big decisions—vocations, careers, relationships. But it’s just as important in the smaller, more personal moments too, like choosing when to reach out to someone who has hurt us, or someone we may have hurt. Therapy can be a valuable space for this kind of discernment. Sometimes the desire to make amends comes from a sincere place of healing and readiness. Other times, it may be driven by guilt, pressure, or a longing for closure that the other person may not be able to give. In our sessions, I often help clients explore their motivations. Are you seeking peace, or permission? Healing, or validation? Discernment is about honesty—with yourself, with God, and with your emotional limits. St. Ignatius of Loyola offers a helpful framework for discernment rooted in prayerful reflection, noticing the movements of the heart. If the thought of reconciliation brings a sense of peace, courage, and compassion, it may be time. If it stirs anxiety, dread, or a sense of obligation, it may be wise to wait, or to approach things differently. The Role of Boundaries in Forgiveness and Healing One of the most common misconceptions I hear, especially among people of faith, is that setting boundaries is somehow un-Christian. But in truth, boundaries are acts of love —toward ourselves and others. They help define what is safe, respectful, and life-giving in a relationship. Forgiveness does not mean allowing someone to continue harming us. Christ calls us to forgive, yes, even “seventy times seven” times (Matthew 18:22), but He does not call us to abandon prudence or endure abuse. Remember, even Jesus withdrew from hostile crowds at times (John 10:39), and He taught that reconciliation involves both repentance and change (Luke 17:3-4). In therapy, we often work on developing “healthy boundaries” that allow us to engage with others from a place of strength and safety. For example, it’s okay to forgive a parent for past wounds without allowing them to manipulate your present life. It’s okay to love a sibling from a distance if closeness continues to result in harm. And it’s okay to hope for reconciliation without forcing it to happen. Boundaries are not walls; they are gates. They give us the freedom to let people in—but only when it is healthy and appropriate to do so. Making Amends with Compassion and Clarity If and when the time does come to make amends, whether as the person extending forgiveness or the one asking for it, approaching the conversation with humility and clarity is essential. We can take inspiration from the Sacrament of Reconciliation, where the process of confession involves examining our conscience, naming our sins, expressing true contrition, and receiving both forgiveness and guidance. Similarly, when making amends in our personal lives, we begin by acknowledging what happened—not defensively, but honestly. We share how the situation has affected us. We listen. We don’t demand immediate restoration, but we open the door to it. And sometimes, we might take that step and find that the other person isn’t ready. Or they respond with defensiveness, denial, or more harm. That’s when we return to our boundaries. Forgiveness is still possible, but reconciliation may need to remain a hope rather than a present reality. Spiritual Guidance Along the Way Throughout this process, our faith can be an anchor. Prayer becomes a conversation with the God who knows every wound and walks with us through every step of healing. The saints offer examples of both radical forgiveness and wise discernment. St. Monica, for instance, teaches us about perseverance in love and prayer without enabling harmful behavior. St. Maria Goretti’s story is often cited for her forgiveness, but we also remember her clarity in saying no to harm. And of course, the Sacraments nourish us. Receiving the Eucharist strengthens us to love like Christ. Confession helps us experience God’s mercy, so we can extend it more freely to others. Spiritual direction can also be helpful when navigating complex relationships and emotional burdens through a faith-based lens. Trusting the Slow Work of Healing Making amends and setting boundaries aren’t one-time decisions. They are part of an ongoing, unfolding process of healing. We may feel ready one day and hesitant the next. That’s okay. Forgiveness is not linear, and relationships—especially broken ones—rarely heal overnight. But I’ve seen firsthand the beauty that emerges when people engage in this work with courage. When they honor both their pain and their desire for peace. When they protect their hearts with boundaries, but still remain open to love. And when they trust that, even if reconciliation is not possible now, it may one day be—with God’s grace. In Conclusion If you’re in the midst of wrestling with whether to make amends, take heart. It’s not an easy decision, and it doesn’t have to be rushed. Therapy can offer tools and support. Your faith can offer wisdom and hope. And both can help you move forward with peace. Forgiveness will always be a part of the journey. But reconciliation? That’s something we discern, with prayer and prudence. And no matter where you land—whether you reach out, stay silent, or hold space from afar—you are not alone in the journey. If you haven’t yet read Part One of this series, I encourage you to explore the foundations of forgiveness and healing in both therapy and Catholic tradition. That post dives into the inner process of releasing pain and embracing God’s mercy—a powerful first step before considering reconciliation. May you be filled with gentleness, wisdom, and the peace that comes from the One who forgave us first. Forgiveness can feel impossible at times—but it’s also one of the most healing gifts we can give ourselves. If you're carrying the weight of resentment or hurt and feel ready to explore a path toward release and peace, therapy can help. At Holy Family Counseling Center , we create a safe space to process the past, understand your emotions, and move forward with intention. Connect with us when you're ready—we’re here to walk that path with you.
By Peter Attridge, PhD October 27, 2025
Forgiveness & Healing: Therapy and Catholic Perspectives on Reconciliation