Many of us have experienced the loss of a loved one—a parent, a grandparent, a friend, a mentor. We know the unmistakable feeling of the world coming to a screeching halt, even as everything around us keeps moving. In the quiet aftermath, we are often left to juggle profound emotional pain alongside work deadlines, childcare responsibilities, and the general expectation to “bounce back.”

In California, bereavement leave offers just five days off for the loss of a close family member. Five days. For many, that barely scratches the surface of arranging funeral services, much less beginning to process the emotional and psychological weight of a loss. If you don’t have additional paid time off, you're expected to return to work as if nothing has shifted inside you.

This cultural push to "move on" quickly sends a clear message: grief is tolerated, but only briefly. Publicly acceptable mourning has an expiration date.

When Grief Becomes a Diagnosis

The latest update to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5-TR) includes “Prolonged Grief Disorder” as an official diagnosis, characterized by intense grief lasting longer than a year. While it's important to acknowledge that grief can lead to debilitating symptoms, like depression or impaired functioning, it becomes problematic when we label the natural, deeply human experience of grieving as pathological.

Who decides what is “too long” to grieve? Who gets to determine when mourning should end?

Even the originators of the famous "five stages of grief" never intended for the model to be interpreted rigidly. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross emphasized that these stages - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance - are not linear or universal. Later, her colleague David Kessler added a sixth stage: meaning. This is the lifelong journey of integrating loss and making sense of it over time. This stage, more than any other, resists containment by a calendar.

Grief in Cultural Context: The Armenian Tradition

Grief is a difficult process to navigate alone. In the spring of 2024, I lost my grandmother, someone who was so loving and supportive throughout my entire life. The grief weighed heavy, however, it was not something I had to hold alone. In Armenian tradition, mourning is structured with care and reverence. The first 40 days after a loss are a period of visible mourning, including black clothing, solemn rituals, and community support. At the 40-day mark, a service is held for the soul of the departed. Mourning continues for a full year, with family members observing traditions, honoring anniversaries, and participating in remembrance ceremonies. Often, even after the mourning period has ended, grief may still be present and I deeply feel this.

For Armenians, and many other cultural communities, a year of mourning isn’t excessive; it’s expected. This is why the DSM’s clause about accounting for “cultural, social, or religious norms” feels both necessary and insufficient. If diagnostic criteria still rest on Western benchmarks of "normalcy," then what room is left for culturally grounded grief?

The Third-Culture Challenge: Navigating Grief Across Worlds

As a third-culture individual—someone raised between cultures, often with a different home culture from the one they live in—the grief experience is uniquely complex. In my own life, I’ve felt the pressure of Western norms telling me my grief has lingered too long. I’ve been denied time off to attend important services for loved ones because they weren’t considered “essential.”

In many immigrant households, especially multigenerational ones, grief is experienced in diverse ways. One sibling may feel an aching void years later. Another may find peace through caregiving in a loved one's final days. Still another may experience waves of emotion that come and go unpredictably.

And yet, our workplaces, healthcare systems, and even our communities often expect a singular, streamlined grief process.

Unrecognized Forms of Grief

We often overlook grief that doesn’t fit neatly into cultural scripts—like the grief of losing a pet, the end of a significant relationship, or diasporic grief for a homeland or identity that feels just out of reach. When these forms of grief go unacknowledged, they can compound and even stir up other unresolved feelings.

Children of immigrants often straddle this emotional complexity. We grieve people we were never given the chance to fully know, languages we never fully learned, and places we cannot return to. My colleague Nicole explores this deeply in her work on diasporic grief, highlighting how it manifests both physically and emotionally (read here).

Grief isn’t always loud or visible. It doesn’t always wear black or show up at a memorial. But it is real and it matters.

Grief Is Not a Disorder. It’s Proof of Love.

Grief doesn’t need to be treated like a disease. It isn’t a flaw to be fixed; it’s evidence of deep connection, love, and humanity. When we treat it as a problem to be solved within a year or less, we invalidate the reality that loss reshapes us permanently.

Grief is not linear. It’s circular, spiral-shaped, and messy. It may retreat for months only to resurface with a smell, a season, or a song. And that’s not disordered. That’s human.

You Don’t Have to Grieve on a Timer

If you’re grieving, whether recently or for years, you are not broken, and you are not alone. Working with a therapist who honors your cultural background, family context, and lived experience can make all the difference. Grief unfolds on its own schedule, and you deserve the space to explore it fully.

If you’re ready to talk about your grief, however fresh or buried it may feel, reach out today for a free consult. You don’t have to rush your healing and you deserve support.

Written by: Jean Donabedian, AMFT, APCC

Jean (he/they) is a queer, 2nd generation Armenian immigrant Registered Associate Marriage and Family Therapist as well as a Registered Associate Professional Clinical Counseling at Noor Therapy and Wellness who helps BIPOC and LGBTQ+ flox find balance between culture and identity.