When a Therapist Grieves: Client Loss and the Quiet Weight of Disenfranchised Grief
The Loss We’re Not Trained For
As therapists, we’re trained to hold space for other people’s grief—but there are certain kinds of losses we’re never really prepared for. One of the hardest is the death of a client.
Whether it’s sudden or expected, the loss of a client can stir up a storm of emotions: sorrow, guilt, fear, self-doubt, even love. And yet, so often, we grieve in silence.
We can’t say their name. We can’t attend the funeral. We can’t explain to the outside world why our hearts are breaking.
It’s a particular kind of disenfranchised grief—the kind that lives in the shadows, unseen and unspoken, but no less real.
The Grief That Lives Between the Lines
The therapeutic relationship is intimate in ways that are hard to explain to anyone outside the work. Even with clear boundaries, we’re showing up week after week with our full presence, our attunement, our care. We listen deeply. We hold enormous things.
And over time, something sacred often happens: we come to love the people we work with—not in a blurred-boundary kind of way, but in the fierce, tender, profoundly human way that deep presence makes possible.
When a client dies, it’s not just a professional relationship that ends.
It’s someone we’ve witnessed in their rawness. Someone whose pain we carried alongside them. Someone we rooted for, cried for, cared for.
And yet, we’re rarely given space—or permission—to mourn them openly.
When Suicide Shakes the Foundation
When a client dies by suicide, the grief becomes even heavier.
There’s the heartbreak of their loss—and then there’s the spiral of self-questioning that can be brutal:
Did I miss something? Was there more I could have done? Should I have known?
Guilt, shame, fear—they can move in fast, taking up space alongside the sorrow.
And layered into it all is the real-world fear about liability, licensing boards, or legal consequences. Even if our hearts are shattered, we might find ourselves censoring what we share—or not reaching out for support at all—because we’re afraid.
This combination of heartbreak and fear can be isolating. It can make the grief linger longer, cutting us off from the healing we need.
Why We Have to Talk About This
Grief that isn’t spoken often turns inward.
It becomes shame. It becomes self-blame. It becomes another quiet wound we carry.
And for those of us in private practice—or anyone without strong, supportive clinical communities—the loneliness can be profound.
We need to create more spaces where therapists can talk about client loss, especially when suicide is involved.
We need places where we can grieve without judgment, without professional scrutiny, without the fear that our humanity makes us less capable.
Because the truth is: grieving a client isn’t a failure. It’s evidence of how deeply you showed up. How real the work was.
If You’re Grieving a Client Right Now
If you’re reading this and carrying the quiet weight of losing a client—whether through illness, accident, or suicide—I want you to know:
Your grief is real, even if no one else can see it.
The guilt you’re carrying doesn’t belong solely to you.
You are allowed to grieve.
Grief doesn’t make you weak.
It doesn’t mean you did something wrong.
It means you cared.
It means you’re human.
An Invitation for Support
If you’re a therapist, caregiver, or healthcare professional navigating grief—especially after a client loss—you don’t have to do it alone.
I offer grief counseling and professional consultation for therapists and healers who are carrying these tender, complicated losses.
Together, we can sit with the heartbreak, the questions, the love that still remains.
I see clients in Oakland and online throughout California.
You deserve a space to bring your grief into the light.
Reach out if you feel called.