Professional grief

7th July 2025

When a client dies, the administrative steps are (usually) pretty clear. But emotionally, what follows is less well defined and doesn’t follow a process. It’s harder to name, harder to place. Perhaps because emotionally the experience often doesn’t fit into any formal category.

In my experience, it was a quiet unfolding. Part of what made it difficult was the absence of language, nothing in my usual way of thinking about my role quite fit what I was feeling. It was through reflection that I came to recognise what I now understand as professional grief, a term I hadn't encountered until I needed words for the experience.

Professional grief describes the emotional impact clinicians can experience when a client dies. It’s not the same as personal grief, but it’s also not nothing. It sits somewhere in between, shaped by the work we’ve done, the connection we had, and the outcomes we hoped for, even when the work has formally ended (Gabbay & Fajgenbaum, 2020; McCulloch et al., 2017).

Professional grief is rarely talked about, and often not seen. It doesn’t come with preparation or guidance, and I wasn’t expecting it when it arrived. In this way, it echoes what Kenneth Doka describes as disenfranchised grief, grief that goes unrecognised because it doesn’t fit within socially accepted or expected norms. In clinical work, where emotional distance is often assumed or encouraged, there is little space for this kind of loss. Without acknowledgment, it can quietly shape how we engage with the work, our clients, our colleagues, and ourselves (Doka, 2002).

The therapeutic relationship is shaped by structure and boundaries and these are essential. But they don’t mean the work is untouched by loss, or that those boundaries protect against the impact entirely!

I’ve found it helpful to recognise this grief for what it is, not a sign of blurred boundaries, and not something to ignore, but a real response to the death of someone I had come to know and care about through the work. And it needs space, by which I mean recognising that this kind of grief exists, allowing ourselves to feel it without judgement, and understanding that creating space for it is a form of self-compassion, not a departure from professionalism, but part of it. As Doka’s work on disenfranchised grief suggests, what is unacknowledged can remain unresolved. Making space may be a conversation in supervision, a quiet moment to reflect, or an internal permission to feel what’s there without justification or apology, something we regularly offer to others, but can struggle to extend to ourselves.

Note
This piece is a reflection on the experience of professional grief, the quiet and often unspoken impact that can follow the death of a client. In writing it, I hope to offer some of the space I found missing when I encountered this kind of loss. It is written from within the work, with care and respect for those we serve and their loved ones, and with an intention to name what is often left unnamed. I wanted to give form to something I’ve experienced, and that I know others may have too. We speak often about the importance of self-compassion, vulnerability, and authenticity in our work, but spaces to practise them honestly, especially around client loss, are quite rare.

References

Doka, K. J. (2002). Disenfranchised Grief: New Directions, Challenges, and Strategies for Practice. Research Press.

Gabbay, P., & Fajgenbaum, D. (2020). Acknowledging professional grief: Supporting healthcare providers in times of loss. Journal of Palliative Medicine.

McCulloch, R., et al. (2017). Health professionals’ grief: A scoping review and thematic synthesis. BMJ Supportive & Palliative Care.