When Words Fail: Coping with Loss Through Writing
- Gary Michaels
- 6 days ago
- 8 min read
There is a cruel irony to grief; it arrives heavy with feeling, yet often robs us of language.
My clients tell me this all the time. They'll say things like “I don’t know how to put it into words.” or “I know how I feel, I just can’t say it” which is usually where I step in.
As a professional eulogy writer, I often sit with people during one of the hardest moments of their lives. They come to me because words have failed them, but they still feel an overwhelming need to say something. To honour. To remember. To make sense of what has happened to them and their family.
I've been a professional writer for nearly 20 years, long before I started writing eulogies for a living. Writing in any form has been my happy place for many, many years and still is.
What I’ve learned over that time, and particularly since I started PostScript Eulogies is this: writing is not about finding the perfect words. It’s about giving your grief somewhere to go.
And that writing does not have to be a eulogy.
For many people, especially those who struggle to express themselves out loud, writing can become a private, powerful companion through loss. A journal no one else sees. A letter never sent. A blog read by strangers who quietly nod along. A notebook filled with fragments, lists, unfinished sentences; an honest mess. I've done all these myself in the past, so I know how powerful they can be during tough (and not so tough) times.
When words fail us in conversation, writing often steps in quietly and does the work for us.
Coping with Loss Through Grief Writing & Why It Helps When Words Feels Inexpressible
Grief is not linear. It doesn’t arrive in neat paragraphs or complete thoughts with an advanced warning. It comes in waves, half-memories, physical sensations and sudden emotional ambushes out of nowhere when you're at the supermarket.
Just talking about grief can feel overwhelming. Not only do you have to manage other people’s reactions, hold yourself together, answer questions, you often reassure others that you’re “coping” or you're "fine", when you're clearly not.
The thing is, writing removes that pressure. Think about it.
On the page, you don’t have to be coherent. You don’t have to be brave. You don’t have to explain yourself. You can contradict yourself, repeat yourself and change your mind halfway through a sentence if you want. The page doesn’t interrupt. It doesn’t rush you. It doesn’t try to fix you.
Psychologically, writing helps externalise grief. Instead of everything swirling around inside your head, it moves out. That alone can bring a sense of relief. It doesn’t solve the pain, but it makes it feel more manageable. Trust me!
In my work, I often see and help people discover things about their loved one and about themselves, through writing that they hadn’t realised when simply thinking about them.
The act of writing slows grief down enough to be examined, held, and sometimes gently reshaped.
Writing Beyond the Eulogy
There's no doubt that eulogies are a very visible form of grief writing, and probably the one most people will associate with loss, but they are just one expression.
Many people assume that unless they’re writing something formal, public, or beautifully structured, it doesn’t “count”. In my opinion, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Some of the most healing writing I’ve seen has never been read aloud. Here are four more ways people use writing to cope with loss.
#1 Journaling: Letting the Truth Spill Out
Journaling is often the first place people turn, particularly in recent years, and for good reason. It’s private, flexible, and forgiving.
A grief journal doesn’t need prompts, fancy notebooks, or daily entries. It can be as simple as opening a page and writing whatever comes out.
What you include in your grief journal is going to be different for everyone but you might write:
What today felt like.
What you miss most right now.
What made today harder than yesterday?
What you’re angry about (this is important).
What you wish you could say to the person you lost.
Some days it might be a full page, or multiple pages. Other days it might be one sentence: “Today was unbearable.” That’s enough.
One tip I often give people is to stop worrying about sense. Grief is not logical. Let the journal reflect that. Write the same thought ten times if it keeps coming back. Write in bullet points. Write in capitals. Write in fragments.
Your journal is not there to be read later. It’s there to hold you now.
#2 Writing Letters to the Person You’ve Lost
This is one of the most powerful exercises I suggest to those struggling, especially to people who feel they didn’t get to say goodbye properly.
Simply put, write a letter to the person who has died.
Tell them how you're feeling, this could include:
What you miss.
What you’re struggling with.
What you’re grateful for.
What you’re angry about.
What’s happened since they’ve been gone.
You don’t need to soften it. One of the great joys about writing is that love and anger can easily exist on the same page. Grief is complex, and writing allows those contradictions to coexist.
Some people write one letter. Others write many over months or years. There is no correct ending.
The act itself can bring a surprising sense of closeness, not because it denies the loss, but because it acknowledges the ongoing relationship we still carry internally.
#3 Blogging: Grief Shared Is Grief Lightened
For some, keeping everything private can feel too heavy. Blogging offers a middle ground between silence and speaking.
You don’t have to be a professional or even accomplished writer to blog about grief. You don’t need a following. You don’t even need Likes or comments.
What blogging does is bear witness.
It says: This mattered. This person mattered. This loss is real.
Many people find comfort in writing for strangers. When I was first diagnosed with PTSD I started a blog, it wasn't a grief blog as such, but I created it to help me make sense of my befuddled brain. I didn't announce it to family or friends, I did it completely anonymously. When I felt I needed to, I just wrote.
I found there was a strange freedom in knowing the reader doesn’t know me, doesn’t expect me to be OK, but I loved that they may recognise themselves in my words and understand that they weren't the only ones going through it.
If you’re considering blogging through grief, I'd recommend you:
Write as if you’re talking to one person, not the whole internet.
Don’t aim to inspire (that may be a side-effect) but just aim to be honest.
You don’t owe anyone updates or conclusions.
You’re allowed to stop whenever you want.
Grief blogs don’t need uplifting endings. Sometimes the most helpful thing you can write is, “I don’t know how this gets easier yet.”
#4 Diaries, Notes and Other Small Acts of Writing
Writing doesn’t have to be formal or lengthy to be meaningful. There are lots of other ways to write that may suit you.
For example, some people keep:
A diary or note on their phone of small memories as they surface.
Notes on their phone when grief strikes unexpectedly.
Lists of things their loved one used to say or do.
Scraps of writing tucked into drawers and books.
These small acts of writing anchor memory. They stop the fear that we’ll forget, a fear many grieving people carry quietly.
As a eulogy writer, it's my job, when I work with families, to draw from these fragments. A throwaway note scribbled months earlier or a little comment they make during a chat can easily become the most powerful line in a funeral speech.
More importantly, it can reassure the writer that nothing truly meaningful has been lost.
Tips for Those New to Writing Through Grief
If you’re not used to writing, I appreciate this is all easier said than done and that it can also feel intimidating, especially when emotions are already raw.
To help you, here are some gentle ways to ease in and begin yor writing journey:
Lower the bar completely - Remember, this is not about talent or writing perfection. It’s about release. Spelling, grammar, structure, none of it matters here.
Set a time limit, not a word count - Try five or ten minutes. Stop when the time is up, even if you’re mid-sentence.
Start with “Today…” - It might not be very creative or inspiring, but it’s simple and grounding and can start the ball rolling, i.e. “Today felt long.” or “Today I missed you.”
Write by hand if you can - Many people find handwriting slows thoughts and deepens emotional processing. It also removes a barrier between you and the words.
Give yourself permission to stop - I know these tips are designed to get you to start writing, but remember that writing can stir things up, often things you might not realise were there. You’re allowed to pause, walk away, or come back later if you want to.
Remember no-one has to see this - Whilst a eulogy isn't generally written for one person, writing for grief like this is, and it's not a performance. It’s a conversation with yourself.
Writing as an Ongoing Relationship with Loss
Grief doesn’t end. Hopeully it gets easier over time, but it's always there and in that time it can and will change 'shape'. Some of the rough edges get smoothed away and it might lose some of its potency.
Writing can evolve with it.
Early grief writing is often raw, chaotic and repetitive. Later writing may become more reflective.
You might find yourself writing not just about the loss, but about how it has changed you. This could be your priorities, your fears, your understanding of love or your outlook on life as a whole.
It might sound strange, but in my work I often tell my clients that eulogies aren’t really about death. They’re about relationships, usually with others but more often than not, with yourself. Writing in grief continues that relationship in a new form.
You don’t write to “move on”. You write to move with what has happened.
The PostScript: When Words Fail, Begin Anyway
If you’re grieving and struggling to speak, please know this: silence does not mean emptiness. It means something inside you is waiting for the right outlet. And that's OK.
Writing like this doesn’t demand eloquence. It only really asks for honesty.
Whether it’s a journal no one sees, a letter never sent, or words on a blog shared anonymously with the world, writing offers grief a place to land. Somewhere safe. Somewhere patient.
As a eulogy writer, I obviously believe deeply in the power of words. But more than that, I believe in the power of trying to find them, even when they come out broken, messy, and unfinished. I've been there too.
When the spoken word fails us in life, writing often becomes the quiet bridge that helps us keep going. If that's you, isn't it worth a try?
Thanks for taking the time to read my post, I hope it has (or will) help you. If writing has helped you cope with loss in the past, I'd love to know which technique(s) you used? Did you learn anything about yourself? How did it benefit you? Let me know in the comments. I read and reply to all of them.
If you are in need of a eulogy for someone you've lost, I'd be honoured if I could help. Whether its a brand new bespoke piece of writing or if one you've already written needs a professional polish, please reach out.
Finally, if you did enjoy this post, please give it a '❤️' and feel free to share it on your socials. Maybe someone in your network might just be in need of it.
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